Alive Asleep Awake
by wineybrat
Summary: I didn't go down there looking for trouble, nor did I ever mean to kill them all. I was alone. I found home with monsters. Then I destroyed that home because I was more monstrous than they could ever be. One way or another, I will set things right.
1. Alive 1: Escape

I was running. Twigs snapped underfoot. Briar bushes snagged the loose threads fraying the bottom of my sweater. I cursed again at angry roots and heavy stones that hid, ready to trip me on my dash up the path. Mud streaked my muck covered shorts, worsening the already dusty brown shade. It had been a long, long while since they've been clean anyway. I never had time to spare a thought for cleanliness. Beats of crackling leaves and panting breaths sounded not too far behind me, and I could hear their volume increasing far too quickly for my taste.

I ducked behind a large, rough trunk to my left, taking hold of a low hanging limb to jump and swing myself up off the ground. Thin soles scrambled to find purchase, slipping once, twice before giving me enough leverage to hold still within the cover of the leaves. The scratchy bark shoved splinters into the gashes on my palms, but what's a little pain every now and then? The real concern was the steadily slow bending of the branch under my weight. I probably didn't have much more mass than those fat squirrels I saw lounging above. Trees could be terribly unfair sometimes.

Four rather enraged faces appeared around the path, all of which were panting and red, from either fury or exertion I have no idea.

"Come out, you coward!" one shouted, glaring around as if the trees had personally offended him. Oh, or maybe that was me. I had called his sister a fat cow like twenty minutes ago and then proceeded to punch her in the face. Repeatedly. I have no regrets.

She and her ratty groupies had been after me for ages ever since I wandered here a couple of months ago. From the first moment they caught me dumpster diving for a new pair of shoes behind their school, I became the subject of their torment _._

For the most part I could ignore them. They were far below my attention after all. However, It was their eyes more than anything else. I could see their judgement, their scorn, their pity at the pathetic wretch of the town. At first they feigned kindness _._ Half-eaten sandwiches were thrown my way, always followed by muffled giggles. Nickels found their way rolling into my path. It was charity, they said one time after pushing a greying blue, cast-off jacket into my arms. "Do us all a favor and get rid of those stripes." Screw that, stripes are awesome. It became very obvious very quickly that it was all a game to them.

Despite it all, I could handle their derision for quite a while. My tolerance was impeccable in the face of idiocy, and I knew quite well by then I had no other choice in the matter, but around three hours ago I had snapped. All I wanted was a meal and some peace and quiet. But they had dared to interrupt me...again.

I had gotten lucky today when some fat guy big enough to have his own gravitational field left his lunch behind to answer his chiming cell. Obviously it was mine now. I had ducked under the table right as he looked away, made the grab and sprinted off to enjoy my win. A full stomach, what a wonderful concept. Maybe I could save some of it for dinner tomorrow too, or I could eat it piece by p—bump. I hadn't anticipated plowing into her and her friends.

While I had managed to maintain my balance, my plunder unfortunately fell to the ground. It had been raining terribly the past couple of days, but the clouds decided to break for this afternoon. Thick mud seeped from the grass and globbed into scattered puddles all over the sidewalk, and the food was absolutely ruined.

Then she had to open her incessant mouth. Thinking back, I could not recall all that she said. She had given me that same look as everyone else. How pitiful, it always said taking me in fully and telling me without words that nobody cared.

In an act far too brash and brutish for my taste, I acted without thought. It had been too much. Rearing back my fist, I staggered toward her and smashed it right into her face. She fell back with a gurgling screech. I always had loved that rush. I likely shouted somethings as well, but the feeling of snapping bone and the terrible pain in my own hand was absolutely delicious. I wanted more.

The delayed sound of her friends' gasps joining the chaos snapped me out of my revelry in an instant. When I looked down at her—really looked—I paused for just a moment. It wasn't often I came to physical blows, so seeing the sharp potency of the pain I inflicted threw me ever so slightly. Something in my stomach tightened and my head felt a bit heavy.

I shook it off the ridiculous sensation. She deserved it I told myself. All matter of fluids dripped down her face, blood, snot and tears. How disgusting. It wasn't my fault she was so mean to me first.

One thing I had failed to account for was her older brother's presence in the park as well. Within three seconds of my return to my senses, I had come to the realization that several sprinting figures were on their way over, and I ran.

I was smart enough to see my odds against a crowd of older boys and made my way up into the mountains. The townspeople rarely ventured up this way. Hopefully here, within the tree cover and unfamiliar terrain, they will just walk right past me and return home empty handed.

I ducked behind a conveniently bushy bush.

"Yo! I think I see something over there!"

Yellow stripe was really not a good pattern for camouflage. Apparently plants seemed to hate me just as much as people did because a branch of ivy decided right then was a good time to twine around my foot and not let go. I retched my leg hard enough to feel a cruel tug and hear a pop like a snapped rubber band. They say adrenaline did amazing things to a person, and I could believe it. I barely even felt a twinge at clawed sharply at the natural binding. I was off again before their leader catch a solid grip on my arm.

The chase, however, was not going nearly as well as it had been previously. The mountain was getting steeper, the gravel looser, and I was losing my steam. They must have known this too because like a pack of hounds my faltering pace only sped them on faster. Sooner than I would like, they caught up, cornering me against an outcropping of rocks in front of a steep drop. It looked like I was in for a beating, nothing new there. After getting their anger out, they would probably just leave me here to either lick my wounds or die alone. People were predictable that way.

Might as well try a preemptive strike, some verbal sparring in before they hit back. "Hey big brother, how's your sister? I may have messed with her face a bit, but it's not like she'll look much worse than she normally does right?" Wrong thing to say.

They closed in on me with fists and kicks and a whole lot of pain. It was hard to see anything, but I promised myself I would remember their faces. Every hit I would return one day; every insult they would regret till their dying breaths.

I didn't want to think that it was my fault. That I should have just kept my head down and my eyes closed. It's what I had always done before. I ignored the whispers though and refocused on the fight.

Even in the haze of punches, shouts, and scratches, any dummy could tell who had the upper hand. I fought on regardless. As one tried to grab my right sleeve, I ducked to the left, swerving around him to drive my shoulder into the gut of another. I barked and bit like a mad dog. Hits were exchanged, bruises were painted, and somehow they were held at bay. For a little while at least.

In the heat of the moment, I did not notice one of the larger boys slip out of the fray to come up behind me. Catching one are behind my back he managed to pin me temporarily. The awkwardness of the angle pulled at my muscle, threatening to dislocate the shoulder altogether.

"What are you gonna do now, you little shit?" the largest one taunted. Of course, he had to be the one whose sister messed with me first. Looming over me by a foot and likely several years, he stood foremost in front of his little band. Woodsy brown hair, close set eyes, an averagely strait nose, and gangly limbs just recently stretched into their teen phase, the boy was one of a million. He was normal with his crew of buddies, decent middle-class parents and an annoying kid sister whom he sometimes looked after as any good big brother would. A carefree small town Joe.

I probably hated him more than I did the girl.

He stepped toward me slowly, rubbing at a fresh bruise on his upper left shoulder, until he could bend down inches from my nose. Confident in his victory—as he should be, I had fought hard but was going nowhere in this position—he began to drawl on about I didn't care what. It had something to do with dragging me back to town, apologies, and police stations. Was there something about lawsuits in there?

My mind was focused elsewhere like how I could get out of this little meeting, hopefully throwing one more punch in before I left. I writhed the fingers in his hold, hoping that a good gouge would loosen his grip. The task, aside from encouraging a stronger grip on my arm, proved fruitless.

Since subtle wasn't working, I began to thrash. Anger gave greater fury to my jerks as I hissed abusive threats at every one of them there. They reeled back instinctively from my craze, looking between each other in uncertainty. Was I crazy? Did something snap in my already hacked up brain. I could read these thoughts in their expressions, but even their released grip didn't stop my frenzy.

Now I was too pissed to even see strait. They tried to trap me, force me to do as they commanded. Because they were stronger, more numerous, I had to obey. I refused! People like them never did anything to help me, so how could their selfish, little minds think I would comply with anything they wanted?

I dashed forward across the loose gravel of the terrain, having forgotten my original goal of escape. I latched onto the sleeve of the one who had been speaking and flexed my arm in preparation for a hit when one of his friends tore me off and slammed me away with a harsh slam to my chest.

The defensive burst had been enough to send me rolling along the ground to the edge of some deep chasm in the ground. No one had noticed it there in the heat of the fight. Held still by wary caution, the boys did not approach me as I glared at them through heavy bangs. I was just about to stand and relaunch my attack when an unsteady tremor from below jolted me. The haze of violence tinting my eyes scattered just in time for me to look down and see the ground crumble underfoot. Gravity took command, pulling the rock and dirt as well as me down into the previously unseen hole.

Unlike the pebbles that hurdled deep down into the sucking depths, I had the chance to flail about. Desperately clutching for any hope I could find, a thick root protruding from the wall snagged my wrist and jolted me to a stop.

I could still see the rim of the hole barely a yard or two above my head. There was no way I could reach that alone. My heart sank. I would have to call for help from those dummies. Undoubtedly they saw me fall, so they should still have been nearby. But…

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. I hurt them pretty badly just a minute ago. That was ridiculous though. Surely they wouldn't wish me dead for a couple of scrapes and bruises. They could shake that off. Well, maybe not the girl's broken nose.

It was human nature to forgive and help even enemies out, right? I saw it once on a TV I watched peeping secretly from a window. The good guy was fighting an evil man who had done terrible things—worse than anything I'd ever done for sure—but when something went wrong and the man was about to die a horrible death, the good guy came and saved his life anyway. "We're the same, you and I. Humans make mistakes, but no one deserves to die like that," he had said. Although that villain was a moron who refused help out of pride and died for it. I would gladly take their hands if it meant getting out of this hole.

The boys and I, we were the same too, right? Human kindness, human decency, humanity itself would have them come, look over the hole and help me climb out. I yelled up to them and felt the branch creak under my weight. They sure were taking a while. A rope would do if they couldn't reach me themselves. Just a small hand, I was so close to the top.

There! I heard whispers! They hadn't left yet, and they were talking about me! I felt cold. The branched creaked again, a sharper note hanging in the air. The whispers pittered out, fading into the distance with the sound of quiet, quieter, then silent footsteps.

Something shattered, then I fell.


	2. Alive 2: Monster

1.2 Monster

There was ringing, low and hollow behind my ears. Was I inside of a bell or something? I had heard of bells big enough to swallow kids up whole. People would hang them way up high in churches. Or so I heard. I never saw one myself, a bell or the inside of a church. I had heard them before though. Every day the sound would smash through the town every hour on the hour. That reverberating crash was kind of like the sound thrumming through my head right now. I made a mental note to find out where whoever it was in charge of these bells lived and pay them a visit.

Slowly I cracked my eyes open. My brows creased with the effort to leave them pried wide rather than slammed shut. Black dots were dancing around the edges of my vision, and I could barely see beyond the dancing squiggles that made my already near sighted eyes just that much worse.

Everything felt so fuzzy.

Ugh. I dragged my hand up against the ground for leverage to prop myself up. I realized my error half way through the motion. The fuzziness in my head rose to the enraged buzzing of a hoard of bees angrily stabbing at the base of my skull. Waves of nausea burst up the back of my throat, and just as soon as I got myself up from supine, my muscles spasmed. I doubled over to one side and began hack and cough sick all over the graveled dirt. Finally, my limbs lost the strength to support me, buckling over to leave me collapsed, cheeks pressed harshly into the dirt. Every labored inhale dragged in a puff of dust which was then choked out with a struggling breath.

Things went dark again after that.

I couldn't say how much time had passed, but somehow I woke up again. That was a surprise. Though my brains were rattled, my memory was terribly intact. I had been sure back then during the fall that this would be the end. Perhaps the ledge was not as high as I though because, though my condition was rather terrible now, I lived through the impact.

As I slowly drifted back to consciousness, my body began to tremble. It hurt. I was still alive.

I had long ago made a point of learning some scraps of first-aid. I knew a well-placed glob of glue could seal up a cut, the exact shade of blue I didn't want my toes to turn in the winter, how to tell a deep bruise from a fracture, and what exactly a concussion felt like. With as buzzy and far away as everything felt, it was nearly impossible for my heart to still be beating after falling asleep with a head injury this bad. So why I was still alive?

I certainly hadn't been afraid of dying. I had come close enough in the past to be sure of that by now. In the snow every winter I would hide behind buildings, ducking into sleazy alleyways to escape the wind. I begged for help, food, shelter, but nobody ever offered. I stopped asking and did everything myself.

Maybe, I used to think, I should just crawl onto their doorsteps and die right there. Then, in the morning, when they rushed out to grab their papers or start their cars, they'd trip over my corpse and bash their brains against the pavement. The fantasy kept me warm through the ice and rain, and I had survived then through pure will power.

I could feel it. I didn't have that will just now, but I managed to pull through again. I was still alive. Before, I had always slapped myself back to reality, away from giving in. I could never just lay down and fade away because there would be no satisfaction in that. I would be a bit too dead to see my pay back. They deserved to hurt like did. That is why I had stayed alive this long, not because I wanted to live, but because I refused to dissolve into nothing.

But in that instant, when I fell, I just didn't care. I was still alive. Why? Why was I still alive? The thought kept looping through my head as if on repeat. The idea of a broken record fit me well. Slightly shattered, but still moving, rewinding, replaying over and over without going anywhere.

Despite all that I had done, I was still so easily cast off, forgotten. When I had hung there just out of sight under that ledge, I heard them whisper.

"What do we do! Oh my god, what are we gonna—" Panicked footsteps approaching.

"Nothing! Nothing happened!" The dry rub of yanked fabric.

"What the hell do you mean noth—" A shuffle of feet.

"Just as I said. We go back, pretend we never caught up to the kid, and we say nothing! No one will remember, or even notice more than a passing curiosity. Most people didn't see the kid around town, or just moved on if they had. They'll forget. We'll forget. Nothing happened!"

"Well, I don't know, but…"

Then I heard their footsteps trailing away, and I let got. And I was still alive.

Bit by bit, motor control returned to my fingers and toes, creeping up to return the rest of my limbs to me. Maybe I could will it away, the sensations. If I refused, then I could just—

The corners of my lips turned down, and I remembered what I had thought about the bleeding girl bemoaning a simple bloody nose! How disgusting, how weak and pathetic. I was stronger than that, than their apathy and spite. My jaw clenched grinding together chips of molars as I forced my eyes back open. Now squinted into a glare at the darkness, my eyes flicked around, and I twisted myself onto my stomach before pushing up to a crawl.

I thrust one leg forward, then the other.

I wavered slightly, pitching to one side then the other, but by the end I stood on my own two feet.

Dizziness threatened to topple my efforts. I staggered to one side, nearly tripping over a long, thing object on the ground. Regaining my equilibrium I cautiously lowered myself to examine it.

My hand rubbed against a thick branch somewhat slimmer than my wrist and slightly taller than my hip. I braced myself for the weight of picking it up, but the wood was startlingly light. The texture was rough and unforgiving against my raw hands, but I needed it. It was a testament to my current condition that something so easily moved nearly had me collapsed back in the dirt, but at least this way I had some support as I began to explore where exactly I had landed.

Neither the black spots nor the ringing had abated, but pain was what really mattered. It hurt, and the jagged stabbing kept me tethered to my senses for every step I made forward. As long as it hurt, I would not let go of myself.

I staggered, reaching blindly for a wall to support myself. It was too dark for easy visibility, but rough outcroppings of rock dotted the ground, I could spot a rough outline of the jagged upward sloping walls. They were a terrifying mass that filled every corner of my vision. Taller than I could comprehend and pocked with dark holes and shadow, they would make the perfect home for ill-tempered snakes and multi-legged insects with fangs and stingers poised to strike.

Though blind, bruised, crippled by my ankle—which with a badly thought out roll, I decided was not quite broken—and dizzy from impact, I pushed myself a couple more steps. My breathing became labored under the exertion of moving around. Finally I felt the cool texture of stone against my outstretched hand. I heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall, ignoring the sharp bits poking into my shoulder. I couldn't afford to sit down, but the unburdening of my legs was heavenly.

Again I squinted around to study my surroundings. The ground was littered with rubble and sporadic soft patches of grass around the circular cavern. As I had noticed before, the walls loomed steeply upward, imposing but possibly climbable? Plenty of hand holds and ledges ran back and forth reaching higher and higher until—there! A lighter shade than the deep black of cave walls was visible right at the brink of a particularly wide ledge. It must have been there I had fallen from. It was high up, terrifyingly so, but no one was coming to help me. If I wanted to get out, scrambling my way up the wall was my only option.

I grit my teeth and began to straighten myself up, pushing away from the wall once again. Clammy sweat dewed on my palms, which I hurriedly wiped away on my shorts. I could not afford to have slippery hands if I was to scale out of here.

Searching for the easiest hold to begin from, my eyes landed on a deep ridge carved just off to the left of my current place. It was deep enough to wedge a toe, perhaps even the ball of a foot if squeezed. From there, the wall bulged out with convenient bumps of stone every so often, with some close enough together to create a trail, or at least resting holds. I followed one particularly reachable path that squiggled inanely back and forth along the wall before it ended a few feet away from a ridge at least a foot deep. That was to be my goal. The ridge led directly under the hole. If I could make it there, all I would need to do was sidestep oven then pull myself out in a single lurch.

Decision made, I carefully set down the stick that had faithfully supporting me so far, giving it a little pat of gratitude, and wedged my foot into that little crack. The climb was even more difficult than I had suspected. Sweat poured from my brow and drenched the stripes of my shirt with discolored stains. Every heave tore at my muscles and sent some undoubtedly bruised bones screeching in agony.

I bit my lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood, as I held back a moan of pain and over extended to grab the next hold just out of my reach. It felt as though my arms tore themselves out of their socket with pure desperation. I had to make it. The world prickled and spun around me. My fingers twitched scrambling for a barely there purchase, but I got it. I trudged on.

The left index finger nail had cracked and chipped half off by this point, leaving trails of blood and sweat to slicken my grip, but I remained firm. The next bulge was close. It was an easy step, and I eagerly leaned my weight onto it when I felt it creak and crack beneath me. For an instant I felt the vertigo of the fall, remembered the instant of losing myself to gravity and awaiting blackness to rush over me, the pain, the impact, the numbing rush—I heard a sharp thud.

Despite the clawing intrusion of the past, my hands had somehow remained fisted onto holds in the wall, supporting the displaced weight from the loss of balance. Only after relaxing my lids back open did I realized that my eyes had reflexively clenched shut in fear. After a minute of labored breath my heart rate slowed, and I, regathering my courage, looked down.

The loosened perch had tumbled to the ground and scattered into small chunks of dirt and rubble. That could have be me, broken and scattered across the dirt. Twice over, I had escaped that fate. I loosed a choking sob of relief. It bubbled out from my throat in strange hybrids of gasping and laughter. I must have had the luck of the devil because I had once again flipped death the bird, and I was getting out of here.

I could see my progress to the hole from my height above the ground. In defiance of the pain and weakness in my limbs, I had managed to drag myself so far up that the ridge was just above and off to the side. As soon as I got there, all I'd need to do was step carefully along the narrow path to the outside. My muscles tensed in anticipation and renewed vigor.

With a victorious grin lighting my face, I scrambled onto the firm ridge of the cave wall. For the first time since—I actually had no idea how long I had been climbing, I let the over stressed muscles in my arms rest. That would show those who doubted me, everyone who thought of me as weak or pitiful, everyone who never cared. I was climbing my way out of hell, and I wouldn't be thrown away that easily.

In my excitement I never noticed the ledge crumbling around the edges. I did not feel the loosening of gravel from embedded stone. I did not hear the grinding of rock slowly being plied away from rock. Because none of this had registered in my mind, I had no warning before I, for the second time that day, felt myself go entirely weightless. For a moment, everything held still. Then I saw the hole, my entrance and my exit, slipping farther and farther away.

I howled in fury, just managing to claw an arm upward to snag something, anything when I impacted below. Again.

This time was much gentler than the last. Instead of dropping onto bare earth, a small bed of grass ringing a patch of flowers cushioned me with a jarring, though not fatal, plop.

They were disgustingly cheerful in the face of my failure. They smiled at me in garish shades of sunshine, warm and glowing against the dark of this hole.

Splayed once again on my back, I swiped furiously at the nearest buds, unintentionally flinging drips of blood over the bunch. Bright red speckled laughing yellow in a mockery of innocence. I couldn't help but giggle. Then laugh. Then burst out in uncontrollable, heaving gasps of mirth.

Lying there amid dirt and petals, covered in a whole lot of substances I'd rather not think about, laughing and sobbing in the dirt, I mused over whether I should even bother to get up. I had been in this position so many times today—or maybe tonight?—that the idea of standing up, walking around without pain, of actually getting out was nearly inconceivable.

I rubbed vigorously at the tears with one forearm, likely smearing the grime further. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I couldn't even climb out of some dumb hole. The tears didn't stop. It hurt, everything hurt so much. I wished it would all just— _snap!_

What was that? My head whipped to the side, eyes widened in fear. Who's there? The beat of heavy plods came out of the shadows not far behind me. From my positon, sprawled awkwardly over the ground, I had to twist my neck uncomfortably around to crane my head in that direction. I probably looked like an owl, staring wide eyed backward and frozen in the moment.

 _Plop-plop, plop-plop_ the sound ricocheted off the walls, multiplying from every direction. Every landing thumped louder in their unseen approach. The minute vibrations in the earth barely shook some tiny pebbles, but I could feel it under the sensitive pads of my fingers clawed into the dirt.

I did not know why or how, but I had to get to my feet. Though weakness and wavering vision, I stood once again up and pivoted far too quickly in order to face whatever it was in the darkness with me. I crouched as low as my broken body would let me, both for balance and preparation. My eyes strained to catch sight of the source of the noise.

It was likely big, heavier than me but not impossibly large by the sound of its movement. I stood in front of the little nook with the flowers, the wall a little ways behind my back. The full stretch of the cavern-like room stretched ahead of me, largely unexplored after my obviously too short examinations. Dark holes, previously assumed to be shadows, melted from the dense walls of rock. I began to shiver.

Tunnels were not good. Any manner of carnivorous animals lived in tunnel systems. My eyes picked up their scanning to a frantic speed. It was too dark. I just couldn't see.

There! There was the silhouette of some type I had never seen before jerking toward me in halting leaps. Its body was thick and heavy, though barely more than half my own height. Its skin—dark from either shadow or genuine deep color—rippled with every motion, tensing then launching the thing forward. It almost seemed like...a giant toad?

I knew the instant it spotted me. Its eyes, wide and slitted, zeroed in on me and in an instant began to glow a terrible, iridescent yellow. The glow lit up our little portion of the chamber, casting everything in that same shade. The mutant toad hopped toward me, giving off strange twittering warbles.

I stumbled back and shouted. Back off. It wasn't leaving. Get away! It came closure. The thing barely paused for a moment. It tilted its head slightly to one side then warble-croaked again continuing its approach, though slower than before. Still its yellow gaze fixed on me.

What should I do? What could I do? An idea struck. In a sudden flurry of movement, I dashed to one side as fast as I could. It had to be somewhere around here. Thanks to my mental mapping earlier, I knew I couldn't have fallen too far from where I began my climb. I found it! The sturdy branch that had helped me before.

I brandished it in the direction of the thing, waving it back and forth in front of me. The toad had closed the previous expanse between us and was now just a few feet away. I swung, narrowly missing its head. I just needed to scare if off, to make it leave me alone!

It dodged back, seemingly irritated. The yellow began to drain from its eyes, as it began quivering somewhat. It had to be trying to intimidate me. I roared again, making a fainting twitch forward. I would just have to be scarier than it was.

Out of nowhere, bright globs of white secreted from the thing's flesh to buzz around in the air everywhere. Slowly, then with increasing speed they circled around me. The ones that touched me—surprisingly few if any were coming directly after me—stung, raising blisters on my hands where I held the stick.

All of my injuries were compounding. My head ached and swam. My ankle throbbed furiously. Bruises from the fall joined with aches from the climb, and everything was just so tired.

I flailed madly, swatting the little lights and yelling at the toad. Go away! Go away! Just die already! With one full powered swing, I hit something firm and stiff with a dull twap! The force snapped the stick in half, while whatever I hit let out a painful shriek and tumbled away.

Everything fell silent. The lights disappeared. The toad was collapsed on the edge of the flower patch. It did not move. Neither did I. Numbly I dropped the broken half of the stick still in my hand and picked my way over to it.

It still had not moved. Hesitantly, after an indefinite time of blank staring, I bent down and poked it. No response. I hadn't meant to think that. It was a kneejerk response, an emotional thought, not my real intention. I couldn't have killed it. I couldn't have hit it that hard, not with my limited strength? I prodded a bit harder, feeling the startlingly smooth texture of its flesh and the squishiness of its muscle. Maybe it was just knocked out for a moment, in fact I really should not have been so close to it. It could wake up at any moment and attack again.

Then it began to crumble. First its legs, then the skin of its back and head where I had blankly continued my poking. Bit by but it dissolved before my eyes. It fell apart, reduced to powdered dust that covered my hands in grey. The last thing I saw before it disappeared completely was the smallest trace of yellow leave its dead eyes.

I couldn't move. I had killed it, dead. Something had died because of me. I had seen road kill littering the sides of streets, noticed the corpses small birds fallen from their nests in the spring time, even saw dead bodies of previously missing children on TV, but I had never been responsible for the deaths. I had never been the one to—crushed skulls, bone white ribs, flame charring a moth's wing. I'd seen kids my age, older and younger, 'playing' with small creatures like this before walking inside to rinse the remains from their hands with soap and tap water and joke together right after. I looked down at my own hands and wrenched to the side to throw up the bile lining my stomach. I was the same, though without a sink.

Dust covered my hands and shirt. I rushed to rub it out over the grass, but it stuck under my nails and in the threads of the fabric. I could smell it, dry and cold with none of the fertility of a rotting corpse.

It was all too much. Right then and there, over the laughing flowers sprinkled with blood, I passed out for the third and final time.


	3. Alive 3: Take Me Home

1.3 Take Me Home

I might have opened my eyes once or twice since then. I remembered looking up at the hole where the darkness had lightened to a perfect circle hazy blue. The next time it was dyed a shifting shade of red. Then purple. Then it flickered out like a candle into black again. The cycle passed at least twice, maybe more times, but I never moved. Maybe the colors had all been just part of a delusional dream

My stomach had stopped aching some time along the way. Sick of explaining to deaf ears why food input was necessary, it had decided to finish shriveling itself up in a sulky silence. It didn't even growl anymore. I felt the acid settle heavily against the lining walls. Was my stomach giving me the cold shoulder?

Ha, what a joke. Whereas before I lay here stunned and hopeless with no desire to move, now I physically couldn't muster the strength even though I do want to. I tried commanding my fingers to wiggle once, but they ignored me too. Time had sapped the little energy I had. A tree would have been more capable of picking up its roots up and tiptoeing away than I was of moving right now.

My extremities had disappeared, I thought. No longer were toes attached to my feet, or fingers hinging off my palms. Everything had gone numb. On the rare instances I was awake, my eyes more often than not refused to open. When they did open, all I could perceive was the blurred shape of pebbles and shadow.

If another toad happened to hop my way, I'd have to let karma run its course. It would be me struck down, crumbling, crumbling, crumbling—I cut off that train of thought with a shaky breath. There was no point in thinking about it. Some things were better off shut away to be dealt with at any time that was not right now.

I sighed, and motionlessly settled in to drift back into unconsciousness. It helped pass the time until my body finished shutting down. Dying was so boring. I was kind of afraid of it at first, but this endless monotony tore even that away from me. If only that rhythmic thumping would stop, I would already be back asleep by now.

I turned the corners of my lips downward to scowl (that was one muscle ability I had not lost). My heart was beating rather strongly for a muscle about to give out. Though I could not feel the pulses or the resulting rush of blood, I could hear them, a steady _plod-plod_ that seemed to be increasing in volume. How strange? I could have sworn I heard my heart coming from somewhere off to the side.

How lovely, I was reaching the first stages of delirium, and my heart had somehow grown legs and began walking around because the timber of my heartbeat began to sound suspiciously like approaching footsteps. Not another toad. That would have sounded more…bouncy. No that word didn't quite fit. Jumpy? No. Leapy? Rubbery? Boundy? Ah, hoppy was the word I was thinking of. Wait was that even a word? Yes, the toad's approach had sounded more hoppy. Or maybe that was beer.

A gentle weight settled on my shoulder. Oh, I had forgotten the matter at hand. Ha-ha, hand, like that thing sitting on my shoulder. It prodded me slowly and cautiously like a child would a sleeping dog.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Oh, I must have been more out of it than I thought. The prodding came again along with the rumbling voice pitched high with concern.

"You poor thing! You must have fallen. Oh no, I better, oh but that looks painful, and how did this get…" The voice trailed off in worried mumbling.

With as much effort as I could scrounge up, I swiveled my eyes toward the voice. Dry pupils cracked with dust and dehydration dilated and contracted to make sense of the scene. I had no idea how he—it sounded like a he from the voice—got down here, but a pudgy boy suddenly hovered by my leg, fretfully swaying his arms back and forth over my head and torso. His body language looked lost, as if baffled as to whether he should prop me up or encourage me to stay down or breakdown himself and cry because he just didn't know what to do.

I couldn't make out his face, but I could tell he was really pale and must have been extremely cold. Fuzzy, white gloves with smooth grips covered his twitching hands. A matching had adorned his head with two floppy flaps that hung down the sides of his face. Entranced, I watched them flick back and forth as the turned his head to stare back into the dark the way he came then back down at me. I wanted to bat at them, like a cat with its favorite fuzzy toy. He repeated the motion several times. Flip, flop, flip, flop.

How did he get down here? It did not look like he fell. His clothes smelled fresh and warm like sweet cinnamon, and his manner, though worried, did not come off as disoriented or panicked for himself. Did he come here often?

The stupidity of that thought irritated me. Come here often? In random holes in the ground. But then again, it wasn't just a hole. I had seen the tunnel entrances myself, and who knew where those led. There was possibility there.

During my far too long periods of consciousness, I had firmly decided that no, I would very much not like to die of starvation at the bottom of some forgotten pit. I wasn't afraid of death; I would just rather not. Not like this. No matter how difficult it may be, I wanted to go back, outside, to see the horizon and the changing of seasons over and over again. It seemed futile at the time. Earlier on in my extended nap, I would have given my soul if it meant getting out of here. The idea of it was distant now though.

The boy's mumbling continued. I shifted a bit, trying to reign in motor control. After a few failed attempts, my hand balled into the soft fabric of his shirt. I gave a few weak tugs. I was practically an infant begging for attention.

He paused in his ministrations to look down into one cracked open eye.

"Thank goodness you're awake!" he breathed, and the obvious surprise on his face irritated me instantly. "I wasn't sure what I would do if you were—well you're awake now. What happened? How did you get here? How many fingers am I holding up? Wait, how rude of me. You probably need a minute before all these questions. By the way, what's your name?"

He finally shut up after that last one. With difficulty, I translated his rapid babble into words and opened my mouth in an attempt to produce some of my own. My bottom lip split from the effort. My tongue like a slab of dried gum, stuck to the roof of my mouth. It moved too clumsily to form proper sounds at first. All that came out was a dry gust of air. Disuse and dehydration had their way for far too long for me to speak now.

Out of habit, I liked my lips and tried again. Wishful thinking told me that this attempt was better than the last. I growled in frustration and bit at my already bleeding lip. Rusty copper registered on my taste buds, making my tongue slick and somewhat more flexible. That had actually helped somewhat. I gnawed and gashed on the split until a slow trickle of red poured out over my tongue. I, with a well satisfied smile, dismissed the slightly disturbed tilt of the boy's shoulders. It was just a bit of blood, you big baby. Properly lubricated, I successfully managed to croak out a small whisper.

"That's a strange name. But it suits you—oh sorry, I didn't mean it like that! It just…"

Blah, blah, sorry, blah. He really needed to get a handle on his babbling, but his nervousness was amusing. It reminded me of the way some kid used to squirm out excuses every time I convinced him to hand over his lunchbox. He never quite knew what to say to avoid making me mad while still keeping his apple juice. I wanted to pick on this boy some more too, but first things first: I wanted out.

I tugged to snap him out of his mumbling. My throat, raw and bloody, refused to carry sound very long, so I had to keep it simple. I needed a short phrase, something quick and easy to say. Yes, that would work.

"Home? You want to go there?"

I tugged again, irritated. No, I wanted to go to the moon. I repeated the request.

"Sure, of course I can take you there! I know my way around all of these caverns perfectly," he said proudly. Knowing how complicated cave systems got, I could admit that sounded like a pretty impressive feat, and I highly suspect the claim was more exaggeration than truth. There was no way he knew every mile of this place. Still, he didn't look particularly lost, and most kids weren't allowed the free reign to go around exploring random cave systems, so we must have been closer to the outside than I had expected.

Stubby digits curled around my shoulder as the thick band of his arm braced from behind and began to pull up. I got my own feet planted shakily below and was forced to slump heavily on his side. I could still not see entirely strait, and the vertigo that crashed as he helped me further up nearly knocked back out. A dry moan rumbled out from my throat.

"Are you all right? I'm so sorry! I'll try to be more gently, so just hang in there, alright," he started fussing again. I could make out the blob of his face hovering less than an inch away in my peripherals. This too was quite frankly beginning to get on my last nerves. Did he have to be so, so…close! True most of my weight was currently supported by his shoulders, which were a surprising mix of firm and puffy, but there was no need for him to shove his face in my own, constantly apologize, and repeatedly check if I was all right.

It was strange. How gently his arms wrapped around my back was strange. The concern in his voice was strange. His overall demeanor of kindness, of all things, was strange. No one went this far for a stranger. Sure, they might approach from curiosity or throw some spare bills every now and then into a hat, but no one could ever be this genuine in an effort to help. This kid must have been special. Mini-bus special, I amended. I had thought most parents taught their kids not to talk to strangers? Something was wrong with this picture, but I'd worry about ditching this weirdo once he led me out.

My wonderings were cut short by another wave of exhaustion. The kid, practically dragging my numb legs at this point, stared solidly ahead. His head bobbed toward me every now and again to check in or warn me about the rough patches in our path. After the first pothole nearly had us face planted thanks to my feet, he found is wise to narrate out journey.

The tunnels spiraled back and forth, sometimes branching off, sometimes conjoining with another to funnel into a single narrow road. I couldn't tell if we were moving up toward the surface or down deeper in, but amazingly enough he navigated the place as if there were signs directing our course. He called out the upcoming turns with unshakable confidence. Neither shadowed corridors nor dead ends affected him in the least. Sometimes, I caught him not even looking forward as we walked, his head bent in my direction instead.

Often the boy broke into periods of unrelated, one-sided chatter. The sounds tumbled together into one indecipherable mass for me, and I did not catch much. It did help me though. The noise kept me focused on the spinning routes and hauling one foot forward at a time. Lift, drag drop. Lift, drag, drop. The rhythm became familiar, yet no less difficult. He told me about his mom and her baking skills—I thought I heard something about snails, but I doubt it—his dad always busy with responsibilities, something about working with the ground that I didn't catch. From what I could decipher, he sounded like every other whining kid I'd been around. Life must be so hard for the poor little boy. Daddy's always busy, and mommy's no fun, probably bored with all his toys. I couldn't wait to get rid of him.

At least, I started to think so. Then a smudge of murky red flashed in and out the lower corner of my vision. It appeared and disappeared with every step. I turned just to get a big eyeful of the muddy blood streaks staining his striped sweater. It must have rubbed off on him as he was carrying me, pulling my dead weight through the tunnels. He never even flinched at it. Not for the first time, I wondered why he didn't just walk away.

More of his voice drifted into my ear. The whining I heard earlier lowered a decibel in pitch without my irritation sharpening its tone. It sounded…sad sometimes. Reading body language and vocal tones had become something of a specialty over the years. I genuinely enjoyed pressing others right to the brink of snapping then seeing them explode their aggression onto others. It took a delicate hand to know just the sting to pull, but it was a lot easier to accomplish when my senses were functioning properly.

I turned my head to peek at him with blurry eyes. I couldn't make out many words he said, but there was a clear note of sadness behind the false cheer. Something in his tone was lying to me. I was probably reading too much into this, but I would be careful going forward. There was just something about this boy.

Paradoxically, he also seemed like a good kid, the best I'd ever met with his unnatural niceness. Good boys always seemed to have the worst issues. For once, reading hurt in another's attitude didn't settle well on me. There was no satisfaction in find a chink in his cheer.

So tired. This was out of character for me, but the head injury was screwing with my thoughts anyway. When we got out and I could feel the sun again, I might thank him.

With that, against a distant sound of rushing water, I fell asleep. Not unconscious, just resting easily for a little while.

*+*;+**+;*+*

I awoke to the quiet shushes and tinkles of dripping water and a soft, blue glow illuminating the area. I had never been one to stare googly eyed at pretty sunsets, but this place was absolutely beautiful. It must have been night time because the stars were twinkling somberly overhead against an impenetrable darkness. More importantly, a small stream shining with a light of its own flowed just a few feet away. I could feel the cool mist radiating off it. My mouth was dry and cracked, and my hands began to shake at the prospect of relief for my parched throat so close by.

I crawled over with spider-like quickness and shoved my head deep into the stream. Greedy gulps went down with some difficulty, but the sensation of liquid dripping into me easily outweighed any such minor discomfort.

One minute passed. Nearly two. My lungs began to file complaints of their own, and at the conclusion of a brief debate I tore my head gasping from the water. After nearly drowning myself, I felt surprisingly good. Maybe it was from the rest (not just blacking out), maybe from the water, but the agony I had been experiencing before had now died down to a mere terrible ache that covered my body. Though painful, I could easily handle this much. Moving around, even if only hobbling, had done me a lot of good.

I leaned back away from the bank to take further inventory of myself. Greenish purple bruising canvased my arms from wrists to shoulders and likely onto my back. I poked at the bones on my sides, visible through dry, thin skin. My ribs, though they had taken a beating, were not broken. Nothing seemed to be bleeding any longer, only the already present dried blood showed ghastly and very gruesome over my shirt.

I did have one problem, however. My stamina was completely shot. The expended effort that brought me to the water's edge left me panting from exertion. All of my limbs shook in a struggle to obey my commands. Something seemed to be moving improperly in my legs though. The flexing of one foot alerted me to a scratchy resistance around my ankle. Cream-colored gauze wrapped sloppily around my foot twisting up to the base of my calf. Someone had tried, not very well I snorted, to patch me up.

The kid! Where was he anyway? He probably left me here to go back to his parents before it got too late. He just dropped me outside and left. I scowled at the stream. I shouldn't have felt bitter about it, seeing as he did get me out of the caves after all, but I did feel bitter. The dumb brat, I didn't know why I imagined him as different from any other. What else could have happened? People were all the same in the end. I knew this.

Too consumed with my thoughts—which definitely weren't full of self-pitying brooding—I did not hear the rustle of fabric behind me or the growly, snuffling yawn, and I most definitely did not jump a foot in the air at the sudden, cheerful greeting, "Howdy, guess we both could've used a quick rest, huh."

He hadn't left? I twisted around rapidly in my shock just to get my first real sight of his face. He really hadn't—I choked and tumbled backwards. My eyes must have been more messed up than I thought earlier because the gloves I saw coving his hands had turned into bulky paws protruding on the ends with sharp, disemboweling claws. The flappy hat joined with the rest of his white, fur covered skull and trailed into two wide, flopping ears. As if that wasn't enough, a muzzle, I didn't understand how I could have possibly missed that, elongated his face ending with knife like canines peeking from under his lips—his hackles.

The stripes had fooled me. My mind flashed back to the toad. I had to get away. It hopped toward me. I got to me feet and searched desperately for the most efficient escape route. Town couldn't possibly be too far away, I thought. I searched desperately right and left. Dread settled in my stomach.

The dark expanse of the sky that I had so admired curved without a horizon down into a solid, stony floor. The lights above which I had inattentively taken to be stars were too large, too bright, and too few. They were crystals poking from a ceiling of rock and dirt.

I had been deceived. No wonder that thing claimed to know its way all through the caves. How else would it be able to lure me to its den?

I glared at it and at my own naïve idiocy. It took a half step backward and raised an arm in front of itself. It tried to ask me what was wrong, had something happened in that same sweet voice that had worried over me before. How could that thing speak? The toad couldn't. Yes, something most certainly was wrong! I had figured out its little game.

I charged forward and smashed into his pudgy—no, not pudgy, monstrously chubby…wait that still didn't sound right—body. We both went down. He winced on contact with the floor, but I came out worse for wear. With my well thought out maneuver, I had managed to not only skin my knee and twist my wrapped ankle, but I had also succeeding in bashing my nose against one of the previously unnoticed horns on the top of its head.

I smelled more than felt the slight drip of blood running down from my nose over my chin.

"Oh gosh, you're bleeding! Does it hurt? Give me a moment I'll grab a tissue."

He then began reaching into a pocket under me, completely impeded by my weight. I upped my struggle to pin him down. He pressed some lavender smelling cloth over my nose.

What?

A few minutes later, I was seated again by the stream holding a kerchief to my bleeding nose while he—it? he?—kneeled in front of me re-bandaging the loosened gauze around my much abused foot. I repeat, what?

I had attacked him in fury, tackled him to the ground, howling like a madman, and in response he nursed my bloody nose? Who did that! Was he looking down on me? Was I so pathetically weak that he thought he could mock me by healing me up before turning around to devour my kidney?

He hummed a music box tune as he twirled the bandage round and round in too thick layers. I cast my gaze around the room in search of a weapon, not that he noticed. What was he waiting for? I had been broken, dragged, terrified and unconscious for the past who knows how long, so what more did he want from me? He tucked in the final loose end under a previous fold and beamed proudly at his work. I followed his gaze dumbly downward. The wrap job was again sloppy and amateurish. I could have easily done it better myself and had half a mind to, but then he shifted that smile to me.

It was wide with sharp shredding teeth at the front followed by neat rows of white, grinding molars. His species most be omnivorous, a removed portion of my mind noted. It was a goofy smile, wide and innocent, and I felt a slice of humiliation at my previous fear. I had been afraid of this? He was a dope, and I told him as much directly as I got up to leave.

"A dope? What's that?...What! Why am I a, umm, dope? Hey!" He scrambled up from kneeling, nearly tripping over his own paw. His flailing attempt to catch himself was even more ridiculous than the fact that he tripped in the first place.

I laughed a quiet snicker behind one hand. It wasn't the laugh of impossible pain or the humor of hopelessness that I had given before. I laughed a genuine laugh that touched something inside me. I felt a small crack seal just a little bit shut as I watched him climb oafishly back to his feet.

I fell silent and listened to the echoes parade down the tunnels branching off from our room. They sobered me. I was still inside. Down here in the hole.

Undoubtedly it was beautiful with its cascades of miniature waterfalls and the shining of crystal, but I still wanted out. I still missed the ability to see further than three yards in any direction. I felt claustrophobic in here, surrounded my heavy walls and darkness.

I turned sharply around to glare at him. Even in he wasn't a rampaging monster bent on devouring my flesh, he had promised to bring me outside, but I was still underground. Maybe the trip would take longer than I expected. I had fallen asleep in the middle of our trip, and it would be unreasonable to expect him to haul me all the way out himself. I didn't know why, but I was kind of hoping he hadn't lied to me. But I was well aware by now that hope was stupid, and I was stupid for hoping. The fact that I did anyway frayed my patience and caused my question to come out my harshly than I intended. Was he not supposed to be taking me back outside?

He shrank back and stuttered out a response to my accusing question. "What, outside? Of course I can't take you there—"

And this was why I hated the mere concept of hope. It was the worst betrayer. He had lied. It made sense. No one could possibly be that good. I wondered what his motives were for keeping me here. A human pet maybe? It would fit with his treatment so far, fond and gentle. I began to picture what kind of collar he would give me. It wouldn't be too bad as long as it had stripes, but that might clash with my sweater, and then I would have to bite him.

"—the passage to the surface has been barricaded for decades. And anyway, I promised to take you to Home, didn't I?"

How did that that make sense? I stared incredulously. I didn't know what to say to that. He would take me home but not outside? What did that even mean? My home was outside, not anywhere specific, mind you, but outside. Sometimes home was under a tree or on a park bench or camped out in a cozy alley behind a restaurant. Home was under the sky and free of walls and bindings. That was the only home I knew of.

I was about to prompt further explanation when he spoke again. "We're about halfway there as is. It's not big, but Home is cozy. Kind of cramped though, but what can you do. It is the capital after all."

That took me a silent minute to process. I never had much schooling, but despite the insults I often received, I was no idiot. I had a strange half-beast, half-human monster guide in a striped shirt showing me around a well-traveled underground cave system and making small talk about a capital. Capital likely meant capital city. He called it 'home' meaning he lived there. His being a monster led to the logical assumption that we were rapidly approaching a central gathering point of numerous monsters who lived in an unknown, likely sophisticated underground society.

It was at this point I begun to minutely freak out. I stopped. He kept walking. I began to hyperventilate, and he turned around. I promptly turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction of wherever it was he was trying to lead me. This must have finally clued him in that something was wrong.

"Hey, where are you going? Are you alright? Heh-heh, I seemed to be asking that a lot, right. Sorry."

No, I told him, I most certainly was not alright. He was walking me into a potentially hostile den of monsters who very well might decide to tear me to pieces and bathe in my blood. How could I possibly be alright! I would have better luck giving that hole at the top of the wall another go.

He looked appalled and nearly sick from that image. "Of course they wouldn't! That would be terrible. Who would do such a—is…is that what humans would do if a monster appeared?" His eyes widened to a ridiculous extent

What?

"Would you tear one to pieces and bathe in blood?"

I broke from my rant, struck but the idiocy of that remark. My first instinct was to shout a denial, to tell him that humans didn't do that kind of thing. Yuck. That would be barbarous, insane, cruel, positively monstrous… Then I thought again of him humming a tune and bandaging my foot with his fuzzy paws, of him looking down past his large toothed muzzle over me, scared for me. Still silent, I considered changing my word choice.

If a hurt monster was found by humans, what would happen? I thought of fluffy, white pelts hung on walls, thought of museums, and thought of the jagged teeth of bear traps set to catch Bigfoot. I thought of scientists taking a scalpel to his chest, matting his white fur with blood in order to study how his abnormally large heart beat differently from ours. I thought of myself tackling him to the ground ready to beat him with my bare hands until only one of us was left, and I thought of the dust still hiding in the threads of my sweater.

I barely whispered out a no, humans wouldn't do that, but in my head I continued. We would do much, much worse.

It seemed he couldn't hear my thoughts. He looked relieved, but eager to forget the violent depiction. I apologized, another first for me, and explained it away as a fear from a bad nightmare. I wiped my hand over my shirt to clear any dusty blotches he might see. As far as he knew, he was first monster that found me, and that's how it would stay. He was just a kid, regardless of the fur and claws, but I didn't know what he would do if he figured anything out. He didn't need to know, and I had no intention of telling.

The aching heaviness returned in the pit of my stomach. My unrestricted movement probably just agitated some of my wounds. I ignored it.

"You shouldn't worry about that kind of thing, no one will mind that you're a human. Though I've never actually met a human before, you know. I read about them in books and all that my mom gave me, and I found all these cool DVDs by the garbage falls, but I don't think they're all that accurate. Are they? Or do you humans really fight in outer space with robots and giant swords? That would be so cool! Hey, what is space like? I can't really imagine what real stars are like, but I bet they're really pretty, and the sky is probably really wide and open."

Yeah, I told him, it is pretty. He babbled on about the outside, and I felt the walls closing in on me again. Patches of dirt crumbled of the walls in several places. What if there was a cave in? He didn't seem particularly nervous about it and kept up the conversation with minimal prodding from me.

"What about clouds, what are they like?"

White. Fluffy. Vapid and floating around. Just like him I supposed.

"Hey! That's mean," he attempted a glare almost as intimidating as bunny-rabbit's. "I have plenty of substance, I'll have you know!"

Mostly located around the tummy area. I poked him to emphasize my point.

"Nuh-uh, that's all fur and muscle. And—and, my mom says we're all just big-boned!"

I smirked at his floundering. Oh? I had certainly heard that one, usually followed by the creaking of whatever poor chair the guy was sitting on.

He averted his eyes for a moment.

No way, I burst into laughter. He actually broke a chair before!

"It was already broken! I didn't notice the leg was unsteady until after I sat down. I'm not fat! I've been carrying you all this way haven't I, and you're more out of breath than I am."

Ture, but I also likely had a bruised rib or something. He had been nice to me though, so I amended myself. He wasn't fat, I promised, just adorably pudgy. I had found one of his sore spots, and I was definitely not about to give it up.

I had plenty of experience with spinning words. Insults were always barbed and one-sided either directed at me or cast at my enemies. Sweet phrases laced with poison were things I crafted as an art. I was keeping it mild right now to test the waters. His responses were perfect, and I smiled to myself as I saw his eyes flick down to his stomach once or twice in uncertainty. It left me feeling funny, kind of fuzzy inside. I had gotten into his head, how advantageous.

I had to be careful though. I snuck a quick peek at him to check for any signs of serious anger. Amusing at it was, I could not afford to really hurt this kid. It wasn't that I found the idea distasteful, I rationalized, just I didn't want to go too far and give him cause to drop me. It would be easy, just toss me in the flowing stream, and he could wash his hands and walk away. The water looked smooth and lazy on the surface. In it I saw, my reflection, small and battered, and his much larger and more steady on his feet. I could tell that under the placid surface the waters rushed with a dark speed into the depth of the cavern. I would never get out.

I glanced again upward, and somehow I couldn't even convince myself that that would be a possibility. I would have no problem tossing someone who insulted me into a river, but him? He was too innocent for that. I frowned. Why pull my punches then? Maybe I, as foreign as this sounded, liked the kid and didn't want him to dislike me. Did that mean I would have to refrain from insulting him?

"You alright? You suddenly look really peaky—I'm so sorry! I didn't notice you may be getting tired. We can settle down here and rest for a bit if you want." So soft.

I shook my head. It looked like all that worrying was for nothing. I could probably kill his mother and he'd still forgive me a second later. I wondered if his whole family was like that. Maybe I wouldn't tear him apart mentally, but insults he didn't notice should still be fine. I could use some practice on subtle barbs.

"Well, okay then. Hang in there. It's just a little farther ahead"

How could he tell? Everything looked the same to me. I focused to get a better look around. The stream we had been following began to diverge from the path ahead. We moved closer to one wall while it disappeared into a deep gorge in the ground.

The stone that had previously been tinted blue and sparkling from the reflections of crystal and water slowly deepened in shade to a melodious purple. The sound of rushing water faded completely and up ahead, I began to see the grooved patterns of brickwork covering the rough texture of the cavern walls.

He gained energy with every step, urging me forward. In stark contrast, I hung back to delay our arrival.

True, he was nice, but what about the rest of the monsters. I jerked to a halt, head bowed and gaze locked entirely on the hole in my left shoe. The tip of one toenail peaked out, thick with grime and dirt. My feet declined to carry me farther.

Slowly he came back and moved in front of me. He cradled my shoulders within his hands. It surprised me enough to lift my head. So warm, his eyes, his hands, his tone. "Don't be afraid. Everything will be all right. I promise."

I believed him, and we walked forward.


	4. Alive 4: Arrival

**A/N** (though not really important) **:** **I'm surprised I haven't said this yet, but DISCLAIMER! Undertale and its character's aren't actually mine. Thought I should put that out there just in case 'cause I'd really rather not get sued. Next order of business, sorry for spelling/grammar/I'm an idiot errors. I've been behind schedule for posting, but I plan on going back through to fix some screw-ups in the first couple of chapters...eventually.**

1.4 Arrival

Piles of crisp red leaves congregated in the corners of the tunnels. They bunched together like a carefully cut mosaic. Not a single edge lay out of place. Something was missing. Their color was even with thin, black veins reaching out from a bold center stroke. I was no specialist, but I had certainly learned my way around plants in my time. Which mushrooms were edible, which branches burned best, which sap would function as an antiseptic or give me a rash, I had become very good at picking these things out at a cursory glance. These leaves, though, I couldn't recognize. There was just something about them.

I wanted to inspect them closer. Each leaf had fallen in such a way to perfectly crop the stem, leaving them smoothly rounded and tapering to points. Walking for so long had given my mind plenty of time to wander. I thought about the quiet peace of the blood red leaves and if they had ever known green. How big was their mother tree? I wanted to know if the bark was lined and spotted like birch or perhaps vibrant and flaking as a yew. The amount of leaves on the ground could have filled the branches of a forest, but there was no tree. No sticks, no twigs, no branches. No tree. The wide, even expanse of the tunnels only now began to unsettle me. I made an effort to swivel around as we passed pile after pile, still unable to catch sight of a single originating plant.

We moved along together, my hair 'unintentionally' swatting his face as I looked around and my arm slung over his neck. Sudden bouts of weakness had often left me unsteady. More than once on our course I had clumsily stumbled into him as we went along. The first time it happened, back then when we had first started out, he had done something disturbingly unexpected. The fuzzy monster had stuck with me. The way out had been longer than I expected. At first after leaving the blue-sheened tunnels with the twinkling water I could still carry myself with some pride. Two hours later was a different story all together. _Just a little farther_ my foot! Sweat beaded at my temples, yet he showed not the slightest sign of exertion. The contrast was humiliating. I attempted to straighten my back and march ahead just to spite the effortlessness of his gait, but still I could feel the painful tremors cascading down my legs to the tips of my toes. What surprised me, however, was that when I finally fell, I didn't hear him laugh. Not even a guiltily muffled chuckle. I lost, but he wasn't even aware of the game. Instead he caught me before I hit the ground and hoisted me back up. Not only did he accept my weight, but he inched closer and without a word took my arm around his shoulder. It annoyed me at first; yes, I was well aware that I was a sore loser. I slumped low to drape myself more heavily and directed my smirk to the floor, not bothering to fully hide it. Let's see how long he lasts with that. Well, he did last' he bore it all.

Somewhere between the brick cracked into jagged halves and the last batch of wall clinging vines, our pace had slowed. He had given up talking some minutes ago, and his back under my arm curved in a slight, nearly unregistered slump. My hair had kept blowing in my face, stirred by the puffs of his breathing which had before been smooth and easy. The tickling annoyed me, and being, for all intents and purposes, carried had done wonders to refill my stamina. That was the only reason I adjusted my weight to a more even distribution, relaxing slightly off of him. I wasn't listening any closer than I normally would to make sure he wasn't exhausting himself. I didn't care in the slightest how he was holding up.

It is smart to lie to your enemies; necessary to lie to your friends; safer to lie to your superiors; but you should never lie to yourself. Somehow or another, and much to my irritation, I did care. On a little! But that little complicated matters greatly. I had felt this before multiple times on the trip, but I always managed to shake myself out of the unnecessary affections that replenished themselves with every step. I must have missed some of it because I felt a shred of liking grow like a weed in my chest. It was too late to rid myself of it now.

With his own breath returning to its previously easy state the chattering came back as well. That was how we had gotten here, him talking, me listening (but not really), and both of us (though mostly me) leaning ever so slightly on the other.

We grew accustomed to the proximity quickly enough and stepped in sync. My left matched his right, and a single set of footsteps could be heard echoing down the way. We had hobbled at first, adjusting to each other's stride. For some reason, the walk didn't seem quite so tiring like this. It was still boring though.

A little itch inside me insisted I find my fun somewhere. A list of my usual options was discarded. There was nothing to steal, no one to verbally crush, no issue of survival to deal with. I shied away from the thought of directing some of my usual games at my guide and again chose not to look to deeply at the reason why.

Externally, I still nodded and hummed now and then at his talking. A small part of my mind was taking notes on any useful information he divulged, but for the most part I just wanted to indulge him in his descriptions of snail tracking while letting my eyes meander around. Over and over, they returned to the leaves.

Upon closer inspection, their uniformity was even more fascinating. A solid burgundy from stem to tip covered them evenly though it lightened somewhat around the veins. Each one had the same size and the same rounded, bulbous cut tapering steeply to the end. They looked so sturdy and thick, settled there vibrantly over the ground. I hadn't noticed I was nudging us closer until I caught a snippet of questioning tone in his stream of speech.

"You must really like leaves, huh."

I hummed back an absent minded response, my attention still firmly fixated on the exotic picture. What texture did they have? Rough and brittle, or perhaps heavy and soft?

I wanted to touch them. It was not an uncommon urge for me. Sometimes a whim would just lodge itself in my head. I knew the longer I left it there the longer it would fester. I knew by now it was better to just give in when the little voice appeared.

I stooped to pick up a smug looking leaf resting on the very top of its pile. Unfortunately I had severely underestimated my own sense of balance. My feet slipped right from under me, and still clutching one furry hand in my own I went tumbling down into the carefully manicured pile dragging him with me.

The world seemed to burst in a crinkling whoosh of red leaves. They were all we saw, tiny blurs of vibrance all around us. They hung in the air for one final moment of perfect stillness, then time started again. The dry leaves fell down out of place in a scandalous disarray so different from their previous order.

I let my head loll to the left. He twisted right. He and I looked at each other for a moment, lying there covered and surrounded by displaced red with our hair ruffled and eyes widened by in surprise. Simultaneously we burst out laughing. His teaming laughter overflowed with mirth, which added to my own amusement. I couldn't say what had him so tickled, but for me it was the look on his face as he fell. Mouth agape with indignant panic and arms flapping as if he were part chicken instead of goat! It hadn't even occurred to the scatter-brain to just let go when I slipped. It took a momentous effort to even begin reigning in my gasping chortles. We clutched our sides and rolled around in a flurry of crunching leaves.

How ridiculous of us. I stood first, having gotten over my fit of chuckles sooner, and stared down at him still entrapped by the leaves. Slowly I extended my hand.

Come on, it's time to go, and staying here won't do us any good.

I had neither the strength nor the desire to pull him up myself. It was more of an invitation than an offer of assistance. Because I wanted to get moving again, not because I wanted to help or anything! The beckoning gesture had been enough. He grabbed my hand and eagerly followed me to his feet. Ah, it felt so nice to have a loyal follower.

The tunnel began to widen out, imperceptibly at first but gradually becoming more and more obvious with every step. At some point, the dust tunnel walls retreated under a layer of finely crafted brick stacked from floor to ceiling. The previously dirt ground too solidified into a smooth, even flooring that resounded with the solid thumps of our footsteps.

Gawking was beneath me, but I couldn't help but admire the mellow tones of this section of tunnels. Natural bushes of green ivy twined through various sections of wall in stark defiance to the necessity of sunlight for growth. They seemed almost happy climbing up and around the tunnels and clinging to the structure of the brick.

I trailed my fingertips over the purple inlays absentmindedly. I had a rather one track mind when it came to senses, so it caught me off guard when suddenly my fingers felt only thin air where there should have been brick. The wall had ended abruptly over a steeply sloped ledge, and there outstretched before me wasn't a small hub or a modest village, but a grand underground city with proportions I never could have imagined. Elegant turreted towers reached up to scrape a black sky with rows upon rows of tombstone shaped windows lit merrily from within. Did they know how to harvest electricity? Or perhaps the dancing flicker belongs to many small candles' pure and smokeless leaping flames. I thought I heard him mention those at some point and almost regretted not paying more attention. Actually, no I really didn't. Columns and domes and roofs and poles and architecture littered the horizon with the dimensions of civilization.

The city looked like a castle too peaceful to require defenses. It looked like Rome without the blood of the conquered. It looked like a home made by ones who admired beauty, loved harmony, and had a desire to create anew something that was lost. It looked nothing like above ground, and I couldn't tell whether I liked it or not.

He came up beside me and grinned proudly at the view.

"Welcome Home! Do you like it? This is my favorite view of the city. It was a bit out of the way, but I thought taking this path back would be easier, you know, less people, more scenic. Most of the other ways would have led us straight down the main roads, and they're always super crowded. I'm always running into neighbors and getting stopped to chat for a bit or make someone feel better, or wash my hands. Not that I have a problem with that or anything—meeting people or washing my hands—it's my responsibility to know all of my people after all, but I thought we should hurry back so you can get some real rest and dinner. I'm starving by now. You too right?"

He was both more energized and more relaxed by the proximity of the city. I couldn't help but feel exactly the opposite. I felt more tired and tense the closer we got, which made me frustrated and angry. I would like to think so, but it probably wasn't anger that sent blood rushing through my ears and an ache to my gut.

In situations like this, I always fell back on my default defense. I never chose flight as an option when fight was so readily available, so I lashed out at him, the one beaming so proudly at the source of my…not fear, anger. I fixed my face into the image of disgust, which he caught immediately. It was too dark, the buildings looked gloomy, how dilapidated. As he wilted, I grew in strength. The pace of my flurry picked up and culminated in a final decree that maybe I changed my mind and didn't want to go into your stupid city. That hung in the air between us, and I buzzed almost high with the euphoria of domination. I had regained control. Of the situation? Of myself? I didn't know, but it felt so good.

My guide wasn't so cheerful. His deflation was complete at my crafted display of scorn. His floppy ears drooped and his eyes took on the downward cast of a too often kicked puppy's. My acid had done its trick and reigned him in. But my win had required his loss. That was a side of my games I had never thought of before except to revel in. It made me uncomfortable now. Moisture began to dew in the corner of his eyes. I began to second guess that perhaps I cut too deep. My sadistic streak got the best of me sometimes. I did know how to perform some rudimentary damage control at least.

I pulled back my lips, scrunched my brow, and lowered my eyes into a perfect imitation of gentle reassurance. I would not apologize. It was just a joke, see? Then I laughed, patted his arm, and expressed displeasure at his stick in the mud pouting. Perfect, I had predicted his response to the dot; once again, he perked himself up significantly, eager to be in my good graces again. Now let's go, I commanded. I was starving, quite literally, and would kill for a good bed.

Which way was his house? Could he see it from here? He pointed to some building in the distance. Where exactly he was gesturing to I had no idea. A mammoth structure towering in the middle of the city blocked a significant portion of my vision.

"What do you mean? It's right there with the purple shingled roofing and the crest."

Maybe he lived behind it?

"No, that one."

Was he pointing to the left?

"No, there!"

To the right? In front?

"No, silly. That is my house. It's really big right! Since dad's the king, we need a lot of room for guests and visitors and guards to sleep, but I think it looks a lot bigger from the outside anyway. We're almost there, so come on! I'll introduce you to my parents, and we can grab something to eat, and then you can sleep with me in my room!"

He was excited, but I was just barely processing the information he so casually dropped. King of monsters. Monster King. Monster King's son. Monster Prince. Prince of Monsters that lives in a palace at the center of a monster city of monsters, where I will soon be meeting monster royalty, eating with monster royals, and sleeping in the same room as Monster Prince, the prince of the monsters. It struck me only now that I did not even know this kid's name. You're supposed to know someone's name before sleeping with them right! I couldn't ask now, it would be awkward, but what should I do, what should I do? Play it cool. Be chill. Chill like a—um, what's is chill? Hypothermic corpse, chill as a hypothermic corpse.

Luckily I managed to keep my corpse silence and continue trailing down our path with his humming chatter drifting into background noise.

We weaved in and out of streets and along back baths, never running into a single soul. Where were they all? I was sort of grateful, though, because I did not particularly want to run into a big band of monsters in my current condition.

After another twenty minutes of walking, we reached the mammoth structure I saw in the distance. According to him, it wasn't some giant castle, but an amalgamation of many buildings built into one for the purpose of centrality. Inside was a market, playgrounds, a hospital, a lab, the headquarters of the guard, the Library of the Underground, assorted staff residences, and of course, the home of the royal family. The place was a big deal, and we would be entering though one of the side courtyards that led straight to his house.

I felt a prickle of apprehension as we passed the outer and then inner gates. There, towering in front of us, was the scariest tree I had ever seen. While not particularly tall, its bark was charred a deathly black and covered with small beadings of red. Scattered around it in a puddle, as if it had bled out, were the leaves that we had seen scattered throughout the tunnels. How could they have gotten that far, especially without any wind down here? It ranked low on my list of concerns, but occupying my mind with the leaves gave me an excuse to avoid the other plaguing worries the buzzed around like flies.

"There you are, son. Your mother and I nearly had to go out looking for you. It's almost dinner time, you know."

The booming voice nearly sent me a foot in the air with surprise. It seemed my botanical investigation would be short lived. His head was higher up than any grown adult male I had ever seen. I craned my neck back to get a look at his fur covered face. Curved, minotaur-like horns jutted from the top of his head, tapering into points sharp enough to gouge and shred. They were pristine and white and terribly intimidating.

I took a step back out of pure reflex, but the motion drew his eyes to me. They were gently warm and so much like his son's that my tensed muscles. It set me immediately at ease. He stooped down to observe the unknown face in his courtyard with a dopey perplexity, a strange combination of confusion, apologies, and good will that seemed to be a natural arrangement of his features. My presence likely just made it more pronounced. His sheer mass was nothing to sneer at; he could crush me with a toe, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to feel really afraid. Intimidated, yes, but terrified? I tried to conjure up the feeling, but the sight of the lime green, floral printed watering can he held nipped the slightest shiver in the bud.

"And who is this? A new friend?" He didn't even flinch at my obvious human-ness. In fact, I glanced down at myself then back to his open gaze, he didn't seem to notice much at all. Not the blood stains on my clothing, or the tears in the fabric, or the scratches and bruising covering nearly every inch of my visible flesh. He didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at it. This monster was either hardcore or a complete moron. I kind of liked him.

"Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to return so late, but this is my new friend." I stepped forward and offered a quick shake of the hand, the one not holding the can. "We met in the ruins, and I wanted everyone to meet each other. Mom's not mad, is she?" He looked nervously between the door and his father as if expecting a demon to emerge from the stout door at any moment to take him by the ear. He fiddled with the corner of one bunny-like ear and shot a nervous, conspiring plea with a heavy dose of guilt to the larger figure. He really did not like to upset his mother. I wouldn't be too surprised if he was a mama's boy. He definitely had the feel of one.

"Oh, no. She was just a little worried, but you're not late for dinner yet. Whelp, let's head inside, shall we, Asriel, new friend."

Asriel? Who—I slammed my palm over my face as I trailed along behind them. Right, name. I had forgotten again. I kept making mistakes, one after another. I've been overhasty; I missed important details; I kept letting my impulses get the best of me. What would happen when I failed to see something truly important? All it would take is a second, a moment of faltered attention, and who knew what might happen down here. I had to remain vigilant, at least until I figured out long term what to do.

Just then, Asriel turned around and trotted back to me. I was walking too slowly for his taste. With a smile he reached down and grabbed my hand.

"Come on, let's go!" It was really warm, and he pulled me close to his side as we walked through the remainder of the courtyard up to the tall purple door carved with a simple design of twisting triangles oriented under a small ball with outstretched wings. It swung open easily under the larger monster's hand and we all clambered inside. Asriel refused to drop my hand or be anywhere other than barnacled to my side, so we had to awkwardly squeeze two at a time through the door. He started giggling as we scrunched together, making me roll my eyes at his kiddiness, but I couldn't help but smile a little too. He made me do that a lot. It must've been the sleep deprivation.

Finally, we popped through into a pleasant cream colored entry way. His father seemed to be holding back chuckles of his own upon witnessing our banter. We moved pleasantly along past some stairs and frames of pictures on walls. It struck me how utterly normal the place was. Like an average suburban home, everything had been tidied to neatness with tasteful vases and flower pots scattered here and there and an atmosphere that just reeked of hominess. It was foreign and somehow not, all at the same time.

We rounded a corner into a bright and cozy living room. A fire blazed merrily in a small niche in a wall, casting a gentle light over the thig rug and two ridiculously plush armchairs. I walked over and poked the larger one once, twice. I didn't look like it would bite. I hopped straight up onto it. My feet dangled high off the floor and I kicked them back and forth idly to test the cushiony give before swinging them over the arm. That felt nice. The cushion practically sucked me into its fluffy, squishy warmth. My head lolled back, all my bones having already turned to mush. Now would be the perfect time for some rest.

"I see you like my chair." Oh, this was his? Too bad, not moving. I hummed back in bliss. "Yep, it's my favorite too. Made it myself a couple years back from accumulated items in the Falls' dump." There was obvious pride in his voice, and I totally got it. Most people would turn up their noses at the idea of sitting in a chair made from trash, but I saw it for what it was: thriftiness, skill, and the desire to make the best out of what you got. He certainly managed to, and besides for a trash chair it smelt pretty good, like cinnamon, tea, and cookies. Yum, I would kill for some cookies right now.

I was about to tell him so from the fogginess of my lulled mental capacity when a shuffling clang came from a doorway in the back. We all turned to look at once as a new figure emerged carrying a very big tray of something. She, I assumed from her smaller horns, long Mumu like dress and overall softer demeanor, must not have heard us over the sound of her work because she started slightly upon seeing Asriel and his dad. A frown creased her features as she zeroed in on her son.

"Asriel, where have you been?" The tone alone spelled trouble for them. "You said you would return hours ago, and I have been worried sick about you. And Asgore," he froze mid step with his back to the scene. "Don't think I don't see you trying to edge creep away from this. Why didn't you inform me that you found him!" Asriel's dad stuttered out some whipped response. If her hands hadn't been held up, she would have undoubtedly been whipping around a scolding finger and pulling Asriel into a hug. Instead she let her eyes make the gestures. I could see the maternal fury as well as loving relief battle in her features. "Now come, help me with this tray, won't you dear." The latter won out. Her tone was still stiff, but gentler now and allowed for no argument. By the lack of hesitation in his approach, Asriel obviously seemed happy enough to be of service.

"Hey, mom, can my new friend stay with us for a while? There's that extra bed in my room, and I don't mind sharing, honest! I promised I would show h—"

The tray of slimy mush crashed to the ground. Asriel, who had not quite been ready to grab the tray when it dropped, dived to pick it up with apologies and complaints at his mother's haste. She didn't hear him. For the first time since entering the room, she took notice of my presence draped across her husband's favorite chair in the blood-stained and dirt-covered rags that he hadn't noticed, with scrapes on my knees and a weary look. We stared at each other, and I feigned the relaxed pose I had settle myself in. I don't think I pulled it off.

Her eyes narrowed and my fists clenched just out of view. Something about her felt different from the other two. There was an awareness, acknowledgement and a heart stopping assessment that flashed like static between two fingers. It disappeared as quickly too, entirely inconclusive.

"Oh, poor child, what has happened to you? All those wounds…" She rushed over to inspect me closer. Padded hands tugged lightly on my arms, twisting me this way and that. I wanted to flinch away, but she was quick and sure in her movements. She had me sit up straight, take deep breaths, tell her where it hurt and if I had any of these cuts cleaned yet. I obeyed for lack of any other options. She rounded hissing on Asgore again. "Have you been allowing this poor child to sit here covered in muck and festering cuts this entire time without even a thought of giving first-aid?"

"Well, Tori dear, uhh…. I would hardly call them festering—"

She huffed in annoyance and shot him a fiery glare, not having any defense on his part. "Why don't you clean up in here while I take care of the children, who are both obviously in need of a good cleansing." It wasn't a suggestion. She pulled me up and snagged Asriel by the hand. "Honestly, your father can be so airheaded sometimes. Not noticing this…"

Her rant continued as she easily handled the both of us all the way to a bathroom somewhere down the hall. I went along without complaint. This woman was way scarier than Asgore with his mammoth size and kingly role ever could be. One should never underestimate the power of a woman whose maternal instincts have been triggered.

I hopped up on the closed toilet seat while Asriel leaned over the tap to wash his hands and rub some smudges of dirt from his face. There weren't very many, but they stood out starkly against his white fur. His mother insisted he washed till he glistened brighter than a Clorox commercial. No son of hers showed up to dinner with dirt under his nails and his fur a mess. It was a matter of propriety; exploring around is perfectly fine, but he really should return early enough to get himself situated before their meal. She kept up this stream of gentle chides as she deftly pulled a small kit out of a lower cabinet and located the swabs and antiseptic pads.

"I'm sorry dear," she said squeezing my hand. "This may sting a little, but bear with it, alright? I will be done soon."

Her tone was bordering on sickly sweet. I wasn't a baby. The pathetic twinge of alcohol on open cuts didn't even make me flinch. But she and even Asriel winced in sympathy over the swipe. I wanted to roll my eyes at both of them because, really, they were just some tiny cuts, nothing fatal. Asgore had understood. He didn't even blink at my minor injuries, let alone fret about it as if I was still on the verge of death. Asriel seemed to sync his mood with his mother's because his nervous fidgeting, which had decreased significantly since he found me, had started up again.

I put up with their mothering through the rest of the first-aid process. It was annoying, but in the end I walked out with five awesome band aids that made me look very badass and a properly wrapped ankle. My clothes had been pretty thoroughly tattered, but luckily Asriel roughly shared my size and impressive fashion sense, so his mom had him fetch me a wash-shrunken sweater of his.

Neatly clothed and properly bandaged, I returned with them to the living room where Asgore had managed to clean up the spilled mess and heat some kind of leftover stew for dinner. A small part of my mind wondered about their subterranean agriculture, but why was I so focused on plants recently?

The food was utterly delicious. I shoveled it in at a likely disgusting rate, but I was not alone in this. Asgore and Asriel dug in with rivaling enthusiasm under the proudly content gaze of his mother. She muttered some kind of lament about the wasted snails she prepared, but by the sound of it I certainly dodged a bullet there.

I wanted to eat more. I really did, but within half a bowl an unbearable cramping began in my stomach. The sharp stabs increased with every subsequent bite before I had to put down my fork. I felt sick, and logically I knew why. Having gone so long without food had shrunken my stomach. Feasting on something as rich and plentiful as this was all but guaranteed to make me ill. I knew this before we even began, but the situation was just so surreal that I acted before I though. It wasn't just the food, but the wholesomeness of the scene. Homemade food, a real dining table, a gathered family, and I had somehow landed myself in the middle of it as if I almost belonged. It felt like a dream, one that would only hurt when I woke from, so I was trying to force it to be real. I heard once that people pinched themselves because you can't feel pain in dreams.

I refrained from hunching over or clutching my arms around my middle. I had seen the proclivity for overreacting out of two of the three monsters at the table already. It hurt, but I did not want to make a big deal out of this. I could deal with a little pain if it meant staying here surrounded by the peace of the dancing fire and the quiet happiness of their little family.

I shifted slightly to relieve some of the pain, but the movement triggered a sudden lurch of queasiness that seeped to the back of my throat. It must have shown on my face, or maybe it was just her mother senses tingling, but she had noticed.

"Is the food not good? You've stopped eating. Perhaps you're not feeling well?"

I lied that I was perfectly fine, just taking a quick breath. She saw right through the false smile I put on. It disturbed me how easily she could do that.

"You are looking a bit shakey. I think it is time for bed. You must have had a long day, and a sweet night's rest will do you good. Asriel, my child, you too. Come on, off to bed the both of you. "

Asriel hopped off his chair, grumbling, but not really opposing his mom's decision. Me, however, she took by the hand and led me down a brightly colored hallway with several doors off shooting to closed rooms. We paused at one of the earlier of the doors hung with a playfully painted sign that read "Asriel's Room." Its owner rushed ahead with fresh excitement.

"You'll be sleeping in my room with me, remember! I have an extra bed, and I can show you my drawings and collections, and it will be so much fun! I always wanted someone to...um, well, yeah." He looked down sadly for a moment before his mother cut of whatever train of thought he had been pondering.

"You two can do all that in the morning," she reprimanded gently. "Right now I want you both tucked in tight and the lights off."

Asriel jumped into the plush filled bed, and his mom led me to the one set up on the opposite side. For the first time in my life, someone tried to tuck me in. I stiffened and wiggled uncomfortably under her ministrations. I didn't like having her so close. I didn't take well to the feeling of being trapped. She picked up on this rather quickly, and backed away with a whispered goodnight. She repeated her actions with considerably more intimacy with Asriel, pulling the sheets tightly over his shoulders and nuzzling his nose with her own.

"And goodnight to you too, my little prince," she told him. I chuckled at the pet name. She flicked out the lights on her way out the room, though she turned to give us one final glance before closing the door with a soft click.

Barely five seconds later I heard Asriel "psst" over to me.

"Are you awake?"

Obviously, who fell asleep after not even a full minute of lying down?

"Yeah, heh-heh, right. Well, you know I said I always wanted someone and all, and that probably sounds lame, right? There aren't many kids down here, and there's no one to play with, but then you came, and I started to get kind of excited. Sorry, I know you said you wanted to go back to the surface and all, so you'll probably want to leave as soon as you can, but at least for a little while, could you maybe consider not? It doesn't have to be forever! Just…for a little…please don't leave. If you did, then I'd be all alone."

The room was dark, and I couldn't see him or anything really. But suddenly I wondered why there were two beds in the room. There was something painfully hollow in his tone. It was familiar. I had seen this earlier, hadn't I, in his desperation to remain at my side. He was lonely, and that made him dependent on the first person to come along. Dependent on me. Good. I saw bars click into place. This turn of chance made me happy, and more importantly it made me safe.

Yes, I think I will stay for a little while. Now go to sleep.

I lay awake as I heard his muffled breaths trail into snores, and under that cacophony and the softness of these sheets and a too full stomach, I let myself relax into sleep.

It must have been the thickness of the blanket, but there was a strange warmth budding in my chest that had little to do with plots or plans.


	5. Alive 5: Forgotten Things

**A/N:** _I may have severely overestimated my work ethic when I claimed updates would not be more than a month apart. Well, no excuses for me, but what I can say for certain is that I have absolutely no idea when the next chapters will come out. Whether it's a week or six months between, they will eventually arrive...I just have to write them still. That being said, I estimate the total length should still be a little over 20 chapters, so I'm not even close to finishing the full story I have in my head._

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1.5 Forgotten Things

Days passed and I wondered if time moved the same way down here as it did on the surface. Every day felt shorter than the last, as if the hours had run away. There was no sun to regulate when I woke up or was sent back to bed—Toriel took that duty upon herself— and no clocks to gauge the process of the day, so for all I knew, I could have slept away more hours than I saw. It was like a dream in that way. Nothing is quite lucid, but you can't help but go along with the flow.

I settled into a pattern here with Asriel and his parents. We awoke, got washed up, sat down to breakfast, and then, if Toriel allowed us out, we would roam around to explore the underground. The days weren't planned out. We didn't know where we would go or have anything in mind to see. Things just happened that way ever since my first day here.

The morning after we arrived could not have started off worse. Something squishy and soft was trying to suck me into its maliciously cozy folds. That was what began to drag me out of my peaceful sleep. I had fallen asleep on benches in wetness and cold, no matter how hard I strained my memory I could not recall a time where I had fallen asleep on a soft mattress with lemon scented sheets. The unfamiliarity left me unsettled and half-awake through the night.

I was dazed, drowning in only the shallowest layer of sleep, but cut off from the world when a heavy weight that crashed down on me. It pinned my arms and pressed awkwardly on the boney flesh of my thighs. My lungs collapsed under the pressure. A choked gasp whooshed from my lips in an aborted note of alarm. When struck with the unexpected and finding oneself under attack, nature has a tendency to take over. Reflex reacts quicker than senses can be processed. For me, everything went white. The sound of rushing blood filled my ears. I threw an elbow, it connected but lacked sufficient leverage for the blow. It was all so fast. I struggled under it, snapping and biting at whatever I could. Disjointed recollections slowly began to filter in—white lights, yellow eyes. I fought harder. There was no longer a weight on my chest, but I still couldn't breathe. It hurt! Everything was so dark. Closed. Sealed shut. Caving in.

I didn't know what it was that got through to me. The episode couldn't have been more than five, maybe ten, seconds start to end, and before I realized it I was motionless, staring down at jaw-dropped Asriel lumped on the floor. He looked on the brink of tears. A beat passed between us in perfect silence. He didn't know what to think; I didn't know what to do.

I threw my head back and laughed. It cracked around the edges, but it disguised shaking shoulders and the tremble already fading from my hands. I doubled over to clutch my stomach in the exaggerated display, barking out wave after wave of mirth pitched too high to be natural. It was so fake that, looking back, it hurt, but it was our first morning together, and he didn't know me as well then as he would come to soon.

I composed myself and shyly (slyly) apologized for knocking him down. Seeing him sprawled on the floor like that first thing in the morning was just such a ridiculous image that I couldn't help but laugh!

He didn't react to my teasing.

Was the distraction not sufficient? Or…had I hurt him? Again I found myself opposed to the idea. The initial plan didn't seem to be working anyway. I asked him outright if he was hurt.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just…your face just then. It was—nothing."

What?

"It was really scary—but just for a second! You're probably grumpy in the mornings. Heh-heh, right?"

I didn't respond to that, and he didn't seem to believe it himself. I didn't attack him out of morning grouchiness, but the excuse was convenient. Sometimes, if you wished for something hard enough, it would become true.

The atmosphere in the room was strained as he looked away and I looked away, and I tried not to peek back at him and he suddenly found the fuzzy dust bunnies under the bed very interesting. It felt as though we were in a vacuum, slowly having our molecules pulled to pieces but unable to do anything to remove the pressure.

Luckily, Asgore, that wonderful oaf, appeared with the ultimate panacea, the cure all for any and every tense situation.

"Kids! Oh, good, you're both awake. Breakfast is finishing up. Blueberry pancakes with fresh cream! Come on down when you're ready."

Food. Food fixed all problems. You could be on the edge of death and the promise of a well-made burger would drag you back from the next life. I swear I've seen it happen before. The call was a lifeline from the current awkwardness. Asriel and I both perked up instantly, though his case was more literal as his tail swished and his ears practically quivered in delight.

Not twenty minutes later I could see why. I will never be closer to heaven than I was in that moment, shoveling forkfuls of fluffy blueberry slabs of sweetened goodness. My torso bent protectively over my plate. It was strategic. I both shielded the food from possible thieves and minimized the distance between dish and mouth. I saw Asriel employ his own techniques of pancake preservation. He went with the speedy chipmunk method: shove it in fast and store it for later. His muzzle grew sticky with maple, much to his delight. I had chosen to bypass the syrup in favor of mountains upon mountains of homemade whipped cream. So white and fluffy and sweet! It was joy, it was bliss, and it was apparently the only dish Asgore knew how to cook.

"Tori normally has full jurisdiction of the kitchen, but since the dinner mess up last night was my fault, I thought I would treat everyone to breakfast. Would you like some tea?" He squirmed in shy pride at his food being so thoroughly enjoyed.

I grunted in the negative, not once turning away from my plate as the breakfast chatter continued. He asked about or plans today and waited patiently each question for either Asriel or I to surface long enough to respond. The conversation was stilted, but affectionate. Even the silences were comfortable now. The morning was all but forgotten. I hoped at least.

"You need some more clothes, don't you?" Asriel directed this last question at me. "I, ah, I'm not really sure where we kept the rest of Asriel's old things, but they're probably somewhere around here if you two wanted to take a peek around."

This was the start of our daily routines.

Asriel was just finishing his final bite and readily responded to his father's suggestion. *munch, munch, swallow, munch, bits of projectile food, muffled exclamation*! I assumed the translation involved something like an excited agreement because a moment later he grabbed my hand and we took off down the hall.

But, my food! I reached longingly back as we, my food and I, gradually grew apart. One sharp turn of the corner and I knew I had to bid it my final farewell. I refocused a glare on the foul creature ahead of me. I would have my revenge!...later. Curiosity was staying my hand for now. Asriel had finally finished swallowing that last bite of pancakes to begin his narration of the various doors along the corridor.

"And over there is the front entrance way, remember, where we came in from. The back one is behind the drawing room. There's the toilet room and the bathroom, and down that way leads to the west wing. It's connected to the main house by a really, really long corridor. Me and mom used to race up and down it all the time, and whoever won got the biggest slice of pie for desert. I always won!" He puffed out his puffy chest proudly. I had to hold in my giggle. "The west wing is the guards'' residences. They're so cool! They specialize in battle magics and giant weapons and lasers and stuff, but I'm sure you're used to those as a human and all. I wish I could learn that too, but mom says I'm too young to young for magic still. Though sometimes she lets me turn on the stove though all by myself!"

So apparently they were magical monsters now. _Flashes of bright dots floated around stinging my arms with piercing jolts and blinding my eyes_. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, having seen it myself already. Perhaps I should avoid that section—actually, no. It was better to see than willingly go blind. Knowledge was power and if there was one thing I hated, it was being weak.

The corridors were endless. On we went twisting and doubling back repeatedly. I had not the slightest of a clue where we were, but Asriel walked with an unwavering certainty. Just like in the caves, he knew the location of every portrait and flowerpot in the halls. He could tell exactly how many steps created each stair case and described the ridges of the keys that unlocked every door. As a tour guide, my little monster was fantastic. I let him lead the way, tugging me along from wing to wing. I hadn't been expecting it, but Asriel was actually pretty smart too. He recounted histories and explained to me the infrastructure and agriculture of the undergrounders. His detail and thoroughness really was impressive. That's why it struck me as so very interesting that he continuously skipped the third corridor on the second floor.

Our route through the mansion-like house took us down overlapping paths, passing the same landmarks over and over again as we branched out in different ways. After two hours of wandering around, Asriel had taken great joy in showing me what felt like every curiosity he could think of, but not once did he mention where that corridor led.

I'd like to say there was something particularly mysterious about it, something like a creeping figure caught in the corner of my eye or strange patterns that whispered of something being off. This was not the case. A couple of potted plants lined the walls with leafy water sausages. The carpet stretched out, neat as ever, though it gave way to hard flooring where it ended with a sharp left turn out of sight. From what I saw the few times we passed, it was an ordinary hall like any other. Except, Asriel avoided it.

We passed by it a third time without acknowledgement, but this time instead of staring down to see where it led, I watched Asriel to confirm my theory. Only a step, a slight shift of his muscles, but I saw him skirt away. His voice dropped ever so slightly. He probably hadn't even noticed, but it was plain as day to me. A smirk lifted the edges of my lips. I loved secrets. More specifically, I loved digging up other people's secrets.

Casually, I tugged him to a stop, facilitated by the fact that we still walked with hands attached. Though he had walked quickly past it, I had been trailing behind and therefore stopped us right at the split off. I nodded my head, gesturing quizzically to the avoided area. Asriel's reaction was…interesting to say the least. And very displeasing.

"You want to know what's down there? Nothing—it's nothing, really."

My grip on his hand slackened for a moment in surprise. Had he just lied to me? Not even well at that! His incompetence at deceit somehow made the transgression worse. I dug my nails into the hand still clutched in mine and squeezed. He winced as I increased the carefully controlled pressure. Would he relent? Our eyes met, and he quickly lowered his. Good, I relaxed back to a comfortable hold. My hand was cramping anyway.

"It's almost nothing, I mean. I don't go down that way much because…that's where the labs are. Let's keep going! I don't think I've showed you the paint room, right? Lots of bright colors and molding clay." I came up beside me and nudged me forward gently with his shoulder. I think he was trying to be subtle. Maybe if he hadn't shown such trepidation earlier I wouldn't have paid attention to the corridor. Maybe if he hadn't tried to hide something from me, I wouldn't have been vindictive enough to turn abruptly on my heel and march strait down in the direction he least wanted to go. But he had, and that's really all there was to it.

"What are you—no! We really shouldn't go down there, I mean, we really wouldn't want to interrupt anything, right? And science isn't that interesting anyway. I hate science, but painting though, now that's fun, so why don't we go to that paint room, or how about anywhere really except…" The corridor after the long stretch and around the sharp left turn that I had seen from the main hall ended immediately in a broad, steely black door. "…here."

A clinical cold filtered through the cracks of the door in a nearly visible cloud of mist. Though no bigger than any other entranceway we had seen today, the door seemed to grow before us, dominating our field of vision. There was no handle or knob, just a panel with a small, silver button on the adjacent wall.

My hand lifted of its own accord, and just as I stepped forward, Asriel stepped back. Our connection snapped. I looked back, one hand still poised above the control panel, to see Asriel fumbling with his own fingers.

"I'm not supposed to go in there. Come on, let's go back."

A chill crept into the hand dangling loosely at my side. My fingers twitched minutely at the sudden lack of something they had grown far too accustomed to having. It appeared that if I went in, he would not follow. If that was his choice, then fine, the cowardly idiot. My fingers closed on themselves, and I turned away. If he would not come, I would leave him there and go alone. I told him as much.

Since being down here, I had forgotten how fickle and unnecessary companionship really was. But still, it could be nice so long as one had their friends appropriately trained. That drew a rueful smile. Asriel would just have to deal with the consequences of cutting me off. Twice in one day too!

With a last scornful look, I pressed the button to the door and entered alone.

My first steps in were…chilling. The light from the corridor tried to penetrate the darkened hall ahead to little effect. Not that I'd let it show, but this place was creeping me out. My pride would not allow me to turn back, but I would really rather not go on. Not that I would back out now. Now that I was here, I wondered just what sort of lab monsters would run. What were they trying to research? I almost turned to ask Asriel but stopped myself before I did something as stupid as rushing back with my tail between my legs.

Just as I began to walk further in, a snag on my sweater jerked me off balance and into a solid and very familiar lump. That was…a pleasant surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"Whether he was apologizing for yanking me or for his hesitation, I didn't care to listen.

I told him to shut up. I then proceeded to tug free my sleeve, slip his hand back into my own and guide him now behind me down the hall. Although he had faltered for a minute there in the beginning, he had made the right choice in the end.

My radiating smugness made the dim laboratory hallways significantly less disturbing. I had expected a main chamber of sorts with beakers and glass jars of who-knew-whats-its. Instead I got what felt like miles upon miles of halls filled with windowless doors. Most were empty, a couple locked. The best way I could describe this place that had Asriel so terrified was…disappointing. It was so boring! There were no scientists, no staff, no experiments, data or books I could flip through. It looked abandoned more than anything else. And again so boring!

Talk about not worth the trouble. We had only explored a few of the halls with any enthusiasm—well, on my part at least—but having found only blanks, I was more than ready to acquiesce to one of Asriel's many pleas to leave. Unfortunately for us both, we were utterly lost. Unlike the rest of the place, Asriel had never had the guts to map out the lab section of the monster castle, so instead of flouncing out, grabbing a snack and proceeding with our original mission, we were walking around aimlessly in search of an exit.

With nothing better to do, I settled into what was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes: bugging Asriel. He was so jumpy down here in the forbidden lab as he called it that the slightest movement had him squeaking.

 _Boo_

"Gaah! What was that?"

What? I assured him I didn't hear anything.

Ohh look, that shadow is moving around the corner.

"What! Where? Are you making fun of me?"

Who me?

"You are, aren't you!" he whined. "Stop it."

Well, what do you know, an ominous light.

"Yeah right. I'm not falling for it this time."

He put on a brave face. Too bad I was telling the truth this time. There really was an eerie blue light slipping from below two doors down at the other end of the hall. This was the first signs of life I had seen since stepping through that metal door.

These two were indiscernible from the dozens of others we had passed except for the small clipboards dangling at the side of each door by a thin length of chain. Ignoring Asriel's token protest, I pulled the nearest board to me and began to skim the paperwork attached.

Amazing. I sped through page after page. The research was so complex and ground breaking! There were…charts and, uhh, words. And well…? I chucked the stupid board back against the wall, taking full pleasure in the crashing reverberation. And it was all complete and utter nonsense. Freaky symbols spanned across each page in patterns that defied any logic, or any I could presently see.

If I couldn't read up, then I'd just have to throw caution away. I grabbed the handle of the door and yanked. It didn't open. Maybe it was a push door. No effect. Pull, push, it didn't matter. The only interesting rooms in the entire wing were locked. Their labels were beyond comprehension, and any secrets I could weed out were sealed away.

I gave the doors each a final kick to show my appreciation. I was done with this place. I beckoned Asriel to follow. He was admittedly apprehensive about letting me lead since I brought us here in the first place and I still had no idea how to get out, but my fire spitting glare encouraged him to keep his complaints to himself. I was ready to leave now, so all I had to do was employ my time tested strategy for finding my way: if you keep going straight and always turn left, you will eventually find yourself on the right path. Despite myself, the idea of a lab still aroused my curiosity. I couldn't help but feel I should seek out more information on monsters. What exactly are they?

Fifteen minutes later, we found ourselves outside of the bathroom on the fifth floor with a plate full of cupcakes, a mop, and a newfound admiration for ducks. We made a solemn pact not to talk about the details ever again.

Gradually, as we walked on continuing the interrupted tour, we forgot about the awkwardness of this morning. There were so many more interesting things to focus on like the smokeless flames nestled in lightbulbs, rooms full of gadgets I had never seen before, and even various bathrooms inside his home. It didn't sound very interesting when Asriel explained what exactly he was about to show me, but the sight of a pool sized tub complete with sparkling white bubbles and a fizzy Jacuzzi setting far exceeded my expectations.

Eventually, our little impromptu tour ended. We had begun this for a reason after all. Reaching the attic, though through a very circuitous route, was our main goal.

I waited below the attic entrance at the base of a sturdy looking ladder made of dense, dark wood and studded with embellishment of brass. Asriel had gone up first to get the trapdoor-like latch opened. The rungs had been sanded to perfection, not a single splinter digging into my hands and bare feet as I hoisted my own way up. The bars were not completely smooth, however. I paused to check down as my fingers brushed over one particularly deep indent.

How fascinating! There were images carved into the dark wood. We had already climbed above the level of the lighting, so a majority of the detail stayed hidden in shadow. I squinted and bent my head closer to make out what I could. There were figures, large and small, round and thin as pipes, some suspiciously human-like, standing around clusters of hut like structures. No faces were carved in, or if there were I could not see them, but the postures were serene. They stood as a group united in celebration. Gentle lines flowed around the image, stretching over the lines of the ladder step and upward to the next.

I traced my hand along the patterns as I continued upward. Every step revealed a new image. The figures were always the same, but slowly I realized there positions were changing. The very large and the very small began to drift to one side. Then it was the ones with distinguished characteristics like wings or tails. The amorphous left too, and the clawed. A deep cleft formed between the two sides, nearly slicing through the next rung until I blinked in surprise. The next one was blank. No figures, no huts, not etchings whatsoever.

"Are you coming?" Asriel's voice called from the inside of the opened panel in the ceiling. He had finished the climb and opened the door for us while I dithered around. It took me a moment to look away from the blankness. "One of the last planks are a bit unsteady, so be careful, okay?" This one? I rubbed at the top of it, feeling it wiggle slightly in its slot, but my fingers agreed with my eyes. Except for a pencil thin line running horizontally around the edges, there was nothing more to be seen on the ladder.

How irritating. Asriel had the right idea; the purpose of this ladder was to be stepped on and ignored in the process of more interesting pursuits.

I pulled myself monkey-like up the last couple of feet and swung into a surprisingly well lit room heaping with mountains upon mountains of forgotten junk. Dust settled over the various shelves and boxes like a layer of musty grey snow. It reminded me of an antique shop I once hid in a couple years ago with its mountains of high-stacked, leather-bound books, collection of rickety chairs in many levels of disrepair, and general air of the forgotten. That shop was one of the few places I could think of with any fondness, or at least without complete distaste. Many times I had slipped my way through the front door—it was always left open in the summer to make up for the dead air conditioner—and laid low amongst the uniformly painted toy soldiers and the music boxes. Not once did the owner ever catch me, though that could be attributed more to his inch thick glasses and hearing aid than to my stealth skills.

I spotted Asriel's tail far to my left. It was wiggling high in the air as the top half of its owner disappeared deep into a wooden chest. That thing was fascinating. The chest, I mean, not his tail, even if it was so perfectly white and fluffy and just begging to be touched—oh look, a distraction.

Clamp!

"Aahhhh! It's eating me! Help, get me outta here!"

His feet flailed wildly outside the now partially shut lid of the chest as everything from his torso up was stuck inside. Oh, how I wished I could see his face, panicked and nearly in tears with the fear of being eaten by a box of all things. I tried to muffle my laughs in the sleeve of my sweater, though I was sure a few gasps escaped, not that he was in any position to hear them with his own high pitched yelps.

Okay, that was probably enough for now. Time to be his hero. I grabbed the upper lid and tried to flick it back open. The thing was a lot heavier than I expected. The rim had been studded with heavy metal rivets and plating for sturdiness, which I supposed made sense, but I winced at the implication. That weight pincing shut at that speed would be more than capable of snapping my spine. Asriel was sturdier than myself, but still it must hurt.

"Please, get it off."

There was that weight in my stomach again. I was beginning to suspect what it could be.

As soon as the gap widened enough, Asriel threw himself out to land bum first on the floor with a solid thump. Immediately he was up again shoving something in my face. It was a considerably smaller though visually identical chest to the one that just 'ate' him. Really, they put a box in a box?

"Look what I found in there! I remember this from years ago. I used to stash all of my left over candy here then shove it under my bed so mom wouldn't see. Here, try one."

Only Toriel? Well then again, Asgore would probably cave in at the first sign of wide, pleading eyes and forget his wife's rules completely. In fact, judging by the sweetness of those pancakes this morning, he'd probably take a piece himself. I popped it into my mouth, hoping the inky blackness did not reflect the actual flavor. Luckily it didn't.

"Dad never minded when I snacked before dinner. Most of the time I even snuck him a piece when mom wasn't looking," he whispered daringly.

Yeah, called it.

"I wonder why the lid suddenly fell shut though," he murmured, one hand going to rub a particularly sore spot on his lower back. "It felt pretty secure when I opened it up."

I suggested it was from all his wiggling. And it definitely didn't fall because I thought it would be funny. Nope, wasn't me. I kept my face stoically straight until I remembered how creepy Asriel found that. The corners of my lips tilted up in a chiding smile instead. I don't know if I got it quite right.

"I should probably be more careful, right, wouldn't want to get someone really hurt." He wondered away to another pocket of random boxes after that to persevere with the clothing hunt.

I stood frozen there a moment longer. Why was it so hard to get a read on that kid? I growled under my breath and began to poke through the dusty junk myself. My motions were closer to ransacking than searching, certainly a bit more forcefully than was necessary. I earned a giant cloud of dust to the face and a three minute coughing session for it.

Asriel had gone silent somewhere out of my sightline. I started to pick my way over to see what he found so interesting. For an attic, the flooring was very well done. In fact, if it wasn't for the steeply sloping ceiling and occasionally creaky floorboards, I would imagine it to be just another room in the castle. Broad rectangular windows, flooded the room with light from the outside caverns, augmenting the lamination from the ever present torches on the walls. The walls, some time ago before the multiple layers of dust settled, had been a calming green, like watery mint tea. Though scratched in some places and chipping here and there, the room had an air of elegance.

Who made all of this? The architecture, the road ways, heated tubs and looming castles, painstakingly carved wood and even little monster sweets. I scoffed at the myth of _human_ engineering prowess. These monsters were obviously just as capable, and in many ways even more so. So, why had I wanted so badly to go back? I thought, and then thought harder, but I couldn't remember. I let out a short, mirthless laugh. I couldn't think of a single darn reason. The epiphany felt fantastic! I leaned down to the ground and scooped up another piece of candy as I came upon Asriel from around a shelf

He was hunched over some kind of book, snout nestled deeply in one of the middle pages. He had yet to even notice me behind him. Did he not know he was tempting a devil? I grinned and blew a sharp puff of air into one of his flopping ears.

"GAH!"

Making him squirm was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes. His fully body twitch sent the book flying into the air, and it was hardly a chore to pluck it out of its fall while still securing the page. My reflexes always had been top notch. The thousands of pages of text were fragile as butterfly wings between my fingers. Black inked words bled through to the following sides. If I held the leather-bound up to the light, I would be likely to see straight through page one hundred and twenty-six to an image of Asriel's gawking face. I didn't though. The nearly transparent paper would surely fall to pieces if treated with anything less than the most delicate hand.

I looked at the opened page to see what Asriel saw. Half of me expected it to be in the same gibberish as the data in the lab, but the legibility took me by surprise. The letters were awkwardly shaped, curling where they ought to be strait and dotted with foreign accents, but I could read the script just fine. That, however, did not mean I understood a single word of it.

"It's my old spells practice book. Mom used to tutor me in it when I was younger, and it was always a lot of fun with her, but now that I'm a big kid I have to use these stupid, stuffy text books with tiny writing and a bunch of facts and theories I have to memorize. I don't like it, but whenever I try to get out of studying, she just sits me down and gives me this same lecture." His pitched his voice high in imitation, "'Now, child, you know you have to grow up big and smart. I know you can do it." And I can't _not_ do my homework after that, you know?"

I should have guessed he was a homeschool brat, sheltered and sweet and all that. But having magic lessons sounded quite the opposite of boring. It sounded dangerous—I felt a thin, covetous grin break out—and terribly fun. What all could he do, I wondered? Maybe I could get a peek of it sometime later, not here obviously. The place was just full of fragile objects teetering precariously on high stacked mounds. He hadn't reached the same conclusion about the imprudence of such a display.

"You want me to show you something?"

What? I spun around and lunged to stop him. No—

"Give me a second." He cupped his palms together. As he kneeled there before me just out of reach, his hands mushed in a makeshift bowl. He bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut. I was now too close as well as too far. Nearly instantly light began to gather. It filled his hands with a bright, sparking sheen that blinded my wide eyes. I think I may hate magic. Uncharacteristic, mouse-like squeak was pulled from my lungs, when all too suddenly the light shot from his palm toward me. I stumbled over my own toes in a futile attempt to dodge, but the burst of brightness pegged me right in my face on the way down. Oww, weird, but oww. Aside from the ache of face planting into a wooden floor, nothing felt particularly burned, cut, or otherwise in magical pain. I lay there in struck dumb, waiting for it to register. And I kept waiting. And waited some more. My tongue felt a bit tingly, but that was it. Better to double check just in case.

Asriel in the meantime stood up, walked over, and looked down at me worriedly and obviously trying to muffle a laugh. "What was that for? You wanted to see, right? That was one mom used to do to me all the time because I hated brushing my teeth at night, but she always said she refused to have me going around with my breath smelling like a common cur, and it just wasn't proper hygiene. Do you dislike mint? I could change it to strawberry if you prefer." He flipped through a couple more pages of the book, skimming for flavor variables. He was—was he playing innocent with me! He knew exactly what he did, and now that I thought about it, he probably knew what I had done earlier too. Revenge was served cold and minty.

The tongue tingling had not ceased. In fact, my mouth was nearly buzzing now. I sputtered and had to spit several times to rid myself of the Listerine-like burn. I never did get how people could calmly gargle acid then cheese into the cameras as if their mouths weren't on fire. It was official. I had never been fond of it, but in this moment I absolutely abhorred mint, but even more than that desperately hated monster magic mint. It was a flavor all of its own. If it involved spells, glowing lights, and hygiene, I wanted nothing to do with it.

I reeled in my glare and clamped down on the annoyance that he had purposefully aimed for a face shot. I had to admit to being impressed despite myself. He could bite back it seemed. That just meant I would have a bit more fun keeping him in his place. I grinned wickedly. He would have to show me more of that monster magic of his. An enemy now can be an ally later.

"Monster magic?" he asked absently, carefully avoiding the disturbing look on my face. "But it says here that that spell was one of the ones that humans gave us. Maybe put too much into it." His attention was drawn back into the dusty pages as he scanned through the numerous columns of thinly written scrawl.

That drew a snort from me. The book must have been terribly off. Getting a spell from humans? Magic had to be strictly a monster thing. For humans, magic only exist in fairytales and bad Hollywood graphics. For all relevant purposes, magic simply did not exist. Kind of like monsters. I reached out to snatch it from his hands.

"Hey, give it back!" Asriel lunged after the book, not quick enough to grab ahold before I turned and held it out of reach. His weight collided into my back as he bumbled into me in an attempt to grab hold of the tome. Despite having a clear height and reach advantage, Asriel's swipes were clumsy and easy to evade.

Soon enough, dodging him became a game. I flicked the book from hand to hand each time he got too close to the one holding the object. In a display of dexterity, the pages went spiraling into the air as I ducked one swiping arm and twisted half around in one fluid motion before dancing back several steps to catch the falling object neatly in one hand. On the upside, the book was sturdier than I had at first thought.

Asriel grew more fierce with his grabs. The cautious hesitation from the first few lunges fell away under his eagerness to catch me. Each time a paw would launch out, I'd slip just out of reach sporting a taunting smile the whole way through. He took the challenge well. Our pace picked up, both of us falling into a pattern of cat and mouse around the attic.

He nearly had me pinned with one well timed pounce, but I was smaller and used our surroundings to the fullest. Diving under a low hanging banister, I grabbed ahold of metal spokes and pulled myself through a narrow gap and back to my feet just in time to see the flicker of Asriel's hand close on air. Where I went under, he leaped over, landing in a crouch with a grace incongruous with his lumbering frame. I would have been scared if not for the enthusiastic tilt of his grin and the innocent glee that lit his eyes. The attic was filled with sounds of giggling pursuit.

A couple close calls later and neither of us could even remember what started the impromptu game of tag. The book lay forgotten somewhere amid the dusty shelves, and Asriel and I circled each other in one of the less obstructed areas of the attic. The floor, though still thick with dust, was relatively clear of battered furniture, and broken teacups. Random mounds of miscellaneous scraps ringed our little arena. Maybe at some point in time someone had sat up here sorting socks from toys from forks, but they had not gotten far. While some of the piles may have had an internal consistency, I saw no rhyme or reason in single one. That is, I couldn't see any in the brief look I cast around before refocusing on my opponent.

Asriel looked positively feral in this light, hunched and looming and grinning like a loon. The feeling was mutual, and didn't that throw me for a loop. He was happy, playing around like this. I was happy too, having someone to enjoy this with. It was insanity and fun!

My marveling distracted me from a well-executed tag from Asriel. My reflexes caught the motion, and I managed to jump away, but the tip of his outstretched hand, claws exposed in the excitement of the game, raked lightly across my cheek. He froze immediately, brows scrunching and lips forming apologetic words I didn't hear. The thin line stung beneath my eye. It was hardly a scratch, but rather than putting me off, it raised my excitement to a new level! He had initiated the next stage in the game. Higher stakes meant I didn't have to hold back myself, to pretend to be nice. I could let loose and go nuts.

Everything dissolved into laughter, and I whirled around. There was a light glinting in a large mound against the wall. Without looking at Asriel, I darted over and took it up. Monsters had claws, but I was a human, and humans like using other means. A small knife, the kind you'd find in a gardener's tool kit, had been wedged up to its handle in a broken drawer. From the lustrous sheen I would have assumed it was new, but smudged wear on the grip told me different. I weighed it, twirling the blade lithely through my fingers before settling my gaze on my friend. He had remained in the center of the room, standing fidgeting and unsure in a way that had been banished since the start of our game.

That was no good. While I liked meek Asriel quite a bit, this new creature—the monster than ran and pounced and stood as my equal—was the one I wanted right now. I wouldn't let him run away.

I slashed towards Asriel with sloppily wide arcs. Our positions had reversed, and now he was the one stumbling out of the way or else risk getting cut. He stuck to charging around our little cleared out section, narrowly avoiding each sweep of my knife. The sound of the blade whistling through the air resounded like a chime. I swiped and batted at him. I was the cat, and he was the mouse, but he didn't need to be. I closed in, coming closer with each swipe to draw out the skill I had seen in him before.

Asriel's startled fear slowly gave way to frustration. He had called for me multiple times to quit it, all to little effect. Eventually, his feet tangled with an unseen obstruction on the ground behind him, and he went down with a crash. He stared up at me, and for the first time he dared to match my sadistic expression with a narrow eyed growl of his own. His muzzle scrunched. He canines were bared. His muscles were tense and strained under the blade of my knife. Finally he was back.

It would take a fool to repeat the same mistakes over and over without learning a thing. This time, I didn't give him time to notice his own aggression. I win, I sing-songed, giving him a little pat on the head before hopping up. The air went out of him like a balloon, and I heard the thud of his head falling back onto the floor as well as a small tinkling rattle.

By his feet was a thin gold chain. It was broken, either from being tripped over or from previous wear. The glimmering loops stretched nearly the length of my arm in a beautiful thread. I lifted it up higher to watch it catch the light, but there was an unexpected weight on the bottom. Two heart shaped pendants dangled off the end. One was nearly black with years' wear and grime, the other cracked along its side. They were a matching pair of abandoned lockets, lost and forgotten in an attic. No one would be looking for them. With my back to Ariel, I slipped the chain and its adornments into my sleeve. After a second's hesitation, I tucked the knife—still held loosely in my hand—away as well.

I hadn't wanted to admit it, but something I kept locked in had begun to worm its way to the surface. It writhed just below my skin. Before, it was always in check, or at least sufficiently satisfied with the small hurts I'd inflict. Each cutting word I'd whisper in another's ear stilled its stirring; every ripple in an otherwise tranquil pond killed the nagging itch for at least a few days. Now though, that something inside me had quieted down. As dumb as it sounded, maybe this was what I needed, someone to cut loose with me. If I went too far or stood too close to the edge, he could be there to go too far with me. It would require balance, but I could handle that.

Asriel was about to ask something, but I cut him off. I knew how to play this now because it was like a game. Yoyos are bounced back and forth; just as they go too far, tension visible in the vibrating string, a careful twitch drew it successful back as if it never left. I had scared him, but displays of kindness drew him back. If the toy came back, too fast and too close, all you had to do was shift your position to send it careening another way. He saw too much about me, but I could play it off. I had to. It was all a matter of twisting the threads round and round until I had all the control they needed to catch Asriel snugly in one palm. So long as I had control, we could still play together. I just had to make sure nothing broke. The thread. Asriel. Or myself.


End file.
